My Immortal
by Annie-chan
Summary: Status: Complete. Johnny finds himself losing his fight to shut himself off from emotion. His inner desire to reconnect with Devi just may prove to be too strong for him to resist. But Devi may already have moved on...
1. Broken Silence

**Author's Notes:** Wow, it's been a long time since I started a new story. The last story I started was a _Fruits Basket_ one-shot way back in July. Before that was a _Kingdom Hearts II_ multi-chapter fic that I'm still working on. It's been stalled for months, and that makes me both sad and frustrated, not to mention puts a dent in my confidence and motivation. Anyway, I'm done whining. I was recently introduced to the genius of Jhonen Vasquez by way of _Invader Zim_, and liked it enough to seek out his other works. I have fallen in love with _Johnny the Homicidal Maniac_. On the surface, it's a splatter-fest for the violence monger in me, as well as a pitch-black comedy. But underneath, it's a heart-wrenching tale of a man being destroyed both by his own mind and by fate itself. Johnny scares me, makes me laugh, and breaks my heart all at the same time. I guess you could say Vasquez has inspired me to write again, and that makes me very happy.

Anyway, I should say that I haven't read _I Feel Sick_ yet, so I'm not terribly familiar with Devi's side of the story. I do have it on order, though, so it's just a question as to how soon SLG will ship it out to me. But, the first chapter or so doesn't require familiarity with _I Feel Sick_, because the focus is on Nny, so I decided to start writing it now. I just hope I don't have to halt writing for a time due to not having _I Feel Sick_ yet. There's some delay in processing my order, so I have no idea when I'm getting it. I guess we'll see.

The title of this fic comes from an Evanescence song, though the song itself has nothing to do with the fic. I chose it to signify how long feelings and emotions can last. Those of you who are familiar with Nny know how he would see this as a major problem.

_JTHM_ and all characters herein belong to Jhonen Vasquez and any other entities holding copyright, not me. That's a good thing, because I don't think it would have been even _half_ as good if it had been _me_ behind the wheel…

**My Immortal**

By Annie-chan

**Chapter One: Broken Silence**

It was nighttime. The moon shown brightly in the black sky, just a sliver away from being full. Countless stars twinkled in the limitless sky, hanging in the blackness like so many diamond chips sparkling in the dark earth. Downtown, lights were on; the city was always awake throughout the night. But out in the suburbs, in the residential areas, only the streetlights lit the rows of houses, accompanied by maybe one lit window or two per block. The populace at large was in their beds, sleeping.

A single car drifted slowly down one dead-end street. It was a small gray car, old and beat up. One headlight was out, and odd stains on the dented front end indicated a crash or two. The motor was oddly quiet, however, and the few people who were awake made no notice of it as it made its way down to the end of the block.

There was a small building at the end of the road, so neglected and fallen into disrepair that it was difficult to call it a house anymore. It was little more than a shack.

The car stopped in front of the house.

The driver shut off the engine, but didn't immediately get out. They just sat there for several minutes. It was almost as if they were hesitant to get out, afraid of going up to the ramshackle house they had stopped in front of. If anyone had been around to look, they would have seen that the driver was sitting perfectly still, their head hung forward and their shoulders slumped. They looked deep in thought, or perhaps shrinking in fear. Whatever was occupying their thoughts, however, they finally straightened up and opened the door to get out.

A man exited the car, tall and lanky, alarmingly thin. Black clothes shrouded his bony frame, and tall black leather boots reached up to his knees, the metal buckles gleaming faintly in the moonlight. In one hand, he held the top strap of a backpack, the bag almost dragging on the ground. He seemed to have forgotten he was even carrying it as he walked slowly up the sidewalk to the door.

A sign hanging on the door read, "Knock on me. You just TRY IT."

The man's thin hand reached out and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open. It was unlocked. Really, who would be brave enough to venture into this evil-looking place? He seemed not to even see the sign as he went inside.

He let the door swing shut behind him, cutting off most of the light from the outside. The moonlight still shown dimly between the wooden boards crisscrossing the windows. Other than that, it was forbiddingly dark. Nevertheless, the man walked forward. He tripped slightly on some debris, cursing under his breath as he regained his balance. Taking a few more steps forward, he reached up, feeling the empty air for something. When his hand closed over what he was looking for, a thin chain hanging down from above, he pulled downward with a sharp tug.

A light bulb switched on. Though dim, it seemed stunningly bright to the man, whose eyes had become accustomed to darkness. He squinted his eyes shut, bringing his hand up to further shield them from the explosion of light. After a moment, he lowered his hand and gingerly opened his eyes, blinking once or twice as his eyes got used to the light. He looked around.

Johnny C. had come home.

For a few moments, he just stood there, looking around and yet not looking around. His eyes saw the broken, debris-littered room, but his mind was elsewhere. His too-large eyes were half-closed, giving him a bored, disinterested look. The backpack hung loosely from his fingers, in danger of falling to the bare floorboards.

Finally, he closed his eyes and sighed. It was a quiet sound, almost mournful. He resumed his trek deeper into the house, glancing down at the floor at a large, reddish-brown spot near the phone table. That was the spot where he had died, and where he had returned to life. He had never bothered to remove the massive bloodstain from the floor. Hell, he almost never bothered to remove any bloodstains from the walls or floors. It just wasn't something he tended to think about.

He pushed through a half-open door into the house's single bedroom.

"So, I see you've returned."

Johnny stopped, his eyes immediately looking to the left side of the room. His dresser stood there, the shattered mirror leaning against the wall on top. In front of the mirror was an open, empty cardboard box, the "this side up" arrow pointing downward. On top of the box stood the chubby figure of a ceramic boy, a giant hamburger balanced on his raised right hand. The voice had come from there.

"And I see you're still here," he replied, eyeing Reverent Meat warily, almost suspiciously.

"Yep, still here, Nny," Meat said, a grin in his voice. Johnny was half sure he saw the figure nod.

"I was hoping you would have disappeared by now," Johnny muttered sullenly, tossing the backpack over to land on the dusty, unused bed.

"Well, as you can see, I haven't," Meat responded as the thin man walked over to him. "I have no doubt that I eventually will go the same way as your other inner voices, but it seems that my time has yet to come. My job isn't done, I'm afraid."

Johnny didn't answer. He looked away from the ceramic figure and into the shards of the cracked mirror. Multiple reflections stared back. It had been a while since he had seen his own face. Not much had changed. His large eyes were still rimmed with black, a combination of sleep-deprived circles and the kohl-based makeup he habitually smeared on his eyelids. He didn't really know why he did that. He had just gotten into the habit and had never gotten out of it, he supposed. His face was still a sickly yellow, the color one would get if much of the pigment were sucked out of naturally medium-toned skin. It was a result of his favoring nighttime for his outings, he supposed. His hair had largely grown back, though it was still on the short side. The two "horns" still jutted out from his forehead and hung in front of his eyes, which just added to his demon-like appearance. He hadn't yet bothered to snip the longer pieces off.

He still looked like a freak. Not that he expected to have changed in appearance during his "holiday".

"What's on your mind, Nny?" Reverend Meat asked after a long silence.

"Shouldn't you know that?" Johnny nearly snapped back, his dislike for the burger boy apparent in his voice. "You're inside my head, aren't you?"

"I respect your privacy," Meat said, a shrug in his voice.

"Hmph," Johnny grunted, looking back to his fractured reflection. His sunken eyes and cheeks gave his face an almost skull-like appearance. Slowly, almost curiously, he ran his hands down his sides, feeling his jutting ribs and hipbones. His clothes were tailored for a tall, thin person, but even so, his painfully skinny body seemed to be lost among the fabric. His skeletal structure was unnaturally narrow, but the bones still stretched his skin, threatening to poke through. He was horrendously underweight, and he knew it, but he did nothing about it.

"You've lost weight since you were last here, Nny," Meat commented. "Still eating next to nothing, are you? Don't you know that's unhealthy? You look like a Holocaust victim."

"Shut up," Johnny hissed, wishing the burger boy would just be quiet.

"There's almost no muscle on your bones to speak of," Meat continued. "One wonders how you move around, not to mention how you attack your victims so viciously."

"SHUT UP!!!" Johnny shouted, gripping his head in frustration. "Just STOP TALKING!!!" He was in no mood to be lectured, and Reverend Meat's preachy way of talking was grating on his nerves.

"Why, Nny, you seem rather irritated," Meat said after a moment, an almost taunting tone in his voice. "I take it your quest for coldness has been less than successful. Is _that_ why you've been so grouchy?"

"If you don't shut up now, I'll break you into a million pieces!" Johnny threatened, his fingers forming claws, just itching to snatch up the statue and hurl it into a corner.

"Doing that won't get rid of me," Meat countered. "Remember Nailbunny? Its severed head floated along beside you, or at least you thought it did. You'll just have a specter of me following you around the same way."

Johnny growled and clutched his head again. Meat was right. Destroying the voice's home wouldn't do anything to make the voice itself disappear. He was also right that Johnny's success in his effort to find emotional numbness had been minimal at best. He would gut himself before he would admit defeat, though.

Meat was silent for a moment, as if observing the thin man's behavior. "You were born a feeling creature," he said then, repeating the words he had spoken to Johnny soon before his departure. "There is no unlearning of your nature."

"FUCK YOU!!!" Johnny exploded, his eyes flashing red. "If I want to cast away my weaknesses, _there's nothing you can do to stop me!!!_"

"You're right," Meat responded, unfazed by Johnny's outburst. "There's nothing I can do directly. But, Nny, explain to me something. If it were at all possible for you to shed your tendency toward emotion, then why have you failed to even come close? You were gone for nearly three months, and you seem no colder than when you left."

"Shut up!" Johnny fired back, tearing at his short hair. "Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!" His eyes were squeezed shut, and his knees were starting to buckle. He was dangerously close to falling to the floor.

Meat was silent, watching as Johnny sank down to the bare floor, his bony knees thunking hollowly against the wood.

"Just…just shut up…!" Johnny moaned after a moment. He had his arms around himself, hugging his skinny frame tightly, his head hanging so low his "horns" were brushing the floor. His eyelids were still squeezed shut, but tears stung his eyes, forcing their way through. "God damn it, WHY DOES NOTHING EVER GO MY WAY?!" he suddenly screamed, banging his fists against the floor. The words were wailed, echoing eerily throughout the house.

"Things aren't going your way simply because you are fighting against your very nature," Meat answered after a moment. "You must banish such stupid thoughts of coldness from your mind. You must strive to be what you were born to be, Nny! Only then will you succeed in your efforts!"

"I won't be a slave to my _weakness_!" Johnny shouted, hitting the floor again on the last word.

The burger boy on the cardboard box sighed. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…I've already told you that there is an unfortunate connection in your mind between feeling and weakness. Nothing is further from the truth. In seeking coldness, you are _running_ from hurt and pain. You wish to not even _face_ such difficulties. It is the act of a _coward_ to shun feeling! Confronting pain and overcoming it is _true_ strength! Not only that, but you are also open to pleasure, to happiness! You're only _feeding_ your sickness by trying to completely isolate yourself! You're isolated enough as it is!"

"Would you SHUT THE FUCK UP?!" Johnny howled, his voice getting hoarse. He hadn't talked much at all while on the road, and now all his screaming was wearing on his vocal cords.

"What about that girl?" Meat suddenly asked. "What about her? Devi, I think her name was? She's _very_ passionate about her art and what she believes in, isn't she? Are you saying she's a weakling for harboring such feeling in her heart?"

Johnny went very still. His eyes were wide, a crazy spark in them. "Don't…" he finally managed after several seconds of speechlessness. "Don't talk to me about her…! Don't say her name, God damn you! Don't even _mention_ her, you _fucking asshole_!" He had jumped up from the floor and rushed up at the burger boy, grabbing the ceramic figure and shaking it.

"Why not?" Meat asked calmly. "Do you hate her so much?"

"WHAT?!" Johnny gasped, taken aback. "NO!!!"

"Then why don't you want to hear her name?" the statue pressed.

"Because—" Johnny began, but stopped. His eyebrows drew together, as if he had no idea what to answer. Or perhaps he didn't want to admit that hearing her name only reminded him of his failure to erase his emotions concerning her. After a moment, he spun around, facing away from Reverend Meat, and let out a frustrated scream, stamping one foot so hard it echoed.

"You need rest, Nny," Meat said after a sigh. "You look like the walking dead. It's been days since you last slept, hasn't it?"

"No," Johnny ground out through his teeth. "I'm not sleeping." He was rubbings his temples, trying to stave off a massive stress headache.

"You're just going to keel over sooner or later," Meat reasoned, his tone that of a parent addressing a stubborn child. "May as well save yourself the bump on the head, eh?"

"Enough!" Johnny snapped. "Stop _badgering_ me!"

"If you lie down and have a proper sleep," Meat said, "you'll escape my 'badgering' for several hours."

"Nice try," Johnny huffed, folding his arms.

"You know I'm right, Nny."

"Fuck off." He had to admit, though, Reverend Meat had him there. He was getting so fed up with the burger boy that part of him was considering falling into that accursed state of mind known as sleep just to escape the little asshole.

"Come on, Nny," Meat prodded, a supplicating tone taking over. "Give in to your natural urges for once. I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason for your foul temper is _because_ you get so little sleep. You're so miserably malnourished, too."

Johnny just grunted in reply.

"Come on," Meat repeated. "Humor me."

"Why the _fuck_ should I humor _you_?"

"Because I'm _you_."

Johnny was silent.

"Well?" Meat pressed. "Get some sleep, then eat something. You'll feel better afterward."

"Fuckin' prick…" Johnny grumbled.

"Thanks," Meat replied sardonically.

Johnny let out a long-suffering sigh, hanging his head and running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he finally said petulantly. "I'll sleep. But only to shut you the fuck up."

"Your reasons don't matter to me," Meat said. "I only care that you see to your body's needs."

"Hmph," Johnny growled, knocking the backpack off the bed and to the floor. He fairly ripped his boots off, having only undone half the fastenings, and dropped them on the floor as well. "Don't even _think_ of this as you winning some victory over me," he warned, sitting down on the bed. "I'm doing this because _I_ made the decision to."

"Sure you are," Meat responded, sounding smugly unconvinced.

Johnny gritted his teeth so hard, he felt them creak. He managed to hold his tongue this time, however, completely fed up with the argument. Instead, he drew his feet up onto the bed and flopped down to the mattress, his head hitting the long-neglected pillow with a _poof_ sound.

"Sleep tight, Nny," Meat said, sounding like a loving parent tucking his child in for the night.

"Fuck you…" Johnny drawled, the words slurring and trailing off as his eyelids dropped closed. Just lying down had triggered his body's need for slumber, and his exhausted brain shut down so quickly it was almost a swoon. Within seconds, he was fast asleep, his body eagerly taking the opportunity to recharge.

Silence overtook the house once more.

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Whee! That was fun to write! I love writing, it's just a motivation problem I've been having. I need to regain my motivation to finish that _KHII_ fic, because I _hate_ leaving stuff unfinished. Anyway, did I keep Nny and Meat in character? I hope I did. I'm always nervous about how in-character I am, because I tend to not think about what I'm writing as I'm writing it. If you have any suggestions for improvement, please give them to me, but be nice about it. Constructive criticism works so much better than flames.

I'm praying I get _I Feel Sick_ soon, because I think I'll need it as a reference as soon as chapter three. Everyone pray with me, and let me know what you thought of this! I haven't written anything in months, and I'm afraid I'm a little rusty. Reviews and/or emails are always welcome.

Ciao!


	2. Dementia Praecox

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Much thanks to reviewers sunglassesANDunicorns, Invader Sideos, kr0n, SpamWarrior, Miscellaneous Penguin (love ya, MP!), LiLSoRacHaN, JuleWooster (you too, Jule!), and CamelofDOOM for reviewing chapter one! If I missed anybody, I'm sorry! I thank you, too!

**My Immortal**

By Annie-chan

**Chapter Two: Dementia Praecox**

_The first thing he realized was that he was standing outside. The stars were shining brightly up in the cloudless sky, the moon casting her white brilliance down upon the dark world. Below him twinkled the countless lights of downtown, mirroring the scattered stars up above. He was up on the cliff overlooking the city from the southwest. He fancied the secluded overhang to be "his spot"._

_The next thing he realized was that someone was in his arms. A woman. A tall, thin woman, to be exact._

_Devi._

_How? How could this be? Why were they here? Why were they…?_

_He squeezed his eyes shut, banishing his thoughts. He didn't care about that. He cared about Devi. She was here, with him. That's all that mattered._

_She was facing him, her arms around him as well. They were holding each other, her arms wound around his waist, his around her shoulders and upper back. He could feel her all along his body, her warmth seeping through their clothes to his skin. He could feel her breathing, her heartbeat, every tiny movement she made._

_God, he _hated _touching. He hated it! But…this felt nice. It felt _good_. He _wanted _this to continue. For the first time in his life that he could recall, he wanted to not only touch someone, but _continue _touching them. He'd hold her until the sun fell from the sky, if he could._

_It came to him that they were rocking slowly back and forth, as if dancing to their own private rhythm. Their feet stayed planted to the ground, but they were dancing all the same._

"_Devi…?" he thought he said. The sound seemed to waver and disappear before it really reached his ears, leaving him to wonder if he had said anything at all._

"_Hm?" she replied. Or maybe she sighed. Or maybe she made no response at all. He wasn't sure._

_Further sound seemed to stick in his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, he didn't know what, but nothing came out. He tried again, but still nothing. He closed his mouth, troubled by his sudden muteness._

"_Nny?"_ _Devi said, her voice still sounding as if it was coming to him through thick padding, transient and faint. She pulled back from him slightly, her vivid green eyes meeting his dark brown ones. There was a question in those eyes, curiosity about what he wanted._

_Seeing her face struck something in him, and his throat closed even further. His heart sped up, and it became harder for him to draw breath. Any semblance of words fled his mind completely, and he just stood there, staring at her._

_After a moment, she smiled. It was a soft smile, void of any mockery or ridicule. She gently placed one of her fingers against his lips as if shushing him, indicating that he didn't need to say anything. She understood. Whatever it was he was going to say—which he had no idea of, but she apparently did—she understood completely. She removed her finger and leaned toward him, her emerald eyes dropping closed._

_Oh, God, she was going to kiss him…!_

_Sudden panic seized hold of him, but in the same instant, anticipation flared up as well. For a split second, he was torn between leaning in to meet her and shoving her away in alarm. He stood rigidly, his body tensed like a spring compacted as far as it would go, his eyes widened impossibly as she slowly moved forward one millimeter after another. Time seemed to slow to a crawl until finally…finally…_

…_her lips brushed his…_

"GAH!" Johnny yelped loudly, jerking violently awake. He lay stiffly for a moment, staring wild-eyed up at the bare wooden ceiling. His breathing was shallow and rapid, his heart beating so loudly he could hear it throbbing in his ears. He looked panicked, confused, afraid…

…until finally he relaxed, the tension draining out of him like water. He blinked up at the ceiling a few times, then brought his hands to his eyes with a groan. He tried to scrub the bleariness from his eyes, but only succeeded in smudging the kohl still blackening his lids.

Damn it, _this_ is why he hated sleeping. Sleep brought dreams, and dreams were lies. The dream that had just come to him had never happened, had never even come close to happening. It was all a lie, a horribly, agonizingly wonderful lie. Upon waking, he had realized that he was still in his run-down house, all alone. No cliff, no starry sky, no Devi in sight. And when he had woken up, disoriented and afraid, the recognition that none of it had been real, that Devi still hated him and would kill him if she had the chance, stabbed him in the heart as surely as one of his hooked knives.

"Fuck," he swore. After all his effort to obliterate his feelings for her, he still cared about her. He still had dreams about her, still caught himself thinking about her when he least expected it, still found himself being reminded of her whenever he saw books or purple hair or a paint set. It was so frustrating, so teeth-grindingly frustrating. He hated himself for his weakness, his dependence on the very thought of her. His emotions were his own, and they should come and go at his command, but no. They ruled him, dominated his life like they did the life of every other weak-minded shithead in the world. Every effort to numb himself to them had failed. It made him sick to think that he couldn't even master his own heart.

"Why…?" he whispered hoarsely to the empty room. "God damn it, _why_?!" He slammed his fists down on the mattress, his rail-thin body almost arching up with the force of his sudden movement.

After another moment of laying there silently, he sighed barrenly and looked over at the clock near his bed. What he saw made him bolt upright in shock.

"WHAT?!" he yelled at the clock, as if the time were its fault. "Ten o'clock at night?!"

"Yep," a voice suddenly said from the other side of the room. "You've been asleep almost eighteen hours, Nny."

That voice seemed to push a button in Nny's brain, and he was instantly annoyed. Growling, he turned around and looked over at Reverend Meat.

"Don't look at me like that," Meat chided. "I'm not the one who kept you asleep that long. You didn't wake up before now because your body needed it. In fact, you probably would have continued sleeping considerably longer if you hadn't been startled awake like that."

"Just shut up," Johnny muttered, bending his knees up and putting his hands on them, resting his forehead on the backs of his hands. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

"You never want to talk to me, but you know that doesn't stop me," Meat pointed out.

Johnny made a muffled, noncommittal noise in reply.

"Go back to sleep, Nny," Meat said.

"No," Johnny grunted.

"Well, then, go eat something," Meat continued to push.

"I will if I feel like it!" Johnny shot back.

Meat sighed. "You're such a child, Nny."

Johnny growled low in his throat, but said nothing. Meat, to his relief, said nothing as well. That relief didn't last long, however.

"What are you thinking about, Nny?" the burger boy asked after several minutes of silence. "Is it that girl, Devi?"

"Don't talk about her," Johnny bit back, though his voice caught, as if something were in his throat.

"The dream you had that woke you up," Meat continued, "was it about her?"

"I said, _don't talk about her_!" Johnny snapped. "What part of that don't you understand?!"

Meat sighed again. "Fine. I'll talk about something else."

"I'd rather you didn't talk at all," Johnny snorted, though his tone indicated he didn't expect to be listened to.

"Too bad," Meat said like a father about to lecture his child. "It's something I'm curious about. Your memories."

"What about my memories?" Johnny asked, giving himself up to this new conversation. He could just get up and walk out of the room, but he suspected that wouldn't work. If Nailbunny could follow him around the house, Reverend Meat probably could, too.

"Have you regained anything from before you came here?" Meat asked. "Did your little excursion unlock any doors?"

Johnny hesitated a moment before answering. "I've remembered a few things. Just small bits and pieces. Flashes, really. Nothing substantial. I'm no closer to remembering who I am or where I came from, or how I came to live in this place."

"You just need to give it time, Nny. Amnesia doesn't go away in a day."

"You misunderstand me," Johnny replied. "I don't _want_ to remember. Memories bring emotions, and that's the _last_ thing I want to happen. I've forgotten my past, and I would rather it stayed forgotten."

"You know I want you to abandon this ridiculous crusade of yours."

"Since when have I cared about what _you_ want?"

Meat sighed a third time. "Johnny, you're acting like a spoiled brat who's not getting his way. You know how stupid you're being, so just give it up already."

"_You_ give it up!" Johnny snarled. "I'm _sick_ of you trying to dictate how I should live!"

"Be sick of it all you want," Meat said, scolding now, "but if your memories are to come back, there's nothing you can do to stop them. You can't suppress a memory you don't yet know is there."

"We don't know if they're ever going to come back, though," Johnny countered. "If they never resurface, that'll be just fine with me. I'm not going to _try_ to remember anything, so don't even _attempt_ to make me."

"The thing in your wall is gone, Nny. You're no longer a waste-lock. It only stands to reason that your memories will gradually return to you, whether I try to make you remember or not."

"Aha, that's just it," Johnny said, his tone almost laughing. "We don't know if my being a waste-lock is what made me forget everything. Satan said I was really sick to begin with, so my memory loss was quite possibly due to my being so fucked up in the first place. I bet I would have forgotten even if I never _was_ a waste-lock."

"Maybe, maybe not," Meat shrugged, as if untroubled by Johnny's reasoning. "But you don't convince me, Nny. Mental illness can indeed lead to memories being distorted or lost, but your being a waste-lock greatly accelerated the degradation of your mind. You don't think simple insanity caused you to forget your _entire life_ before living here, do you? That's at least twenty years of memories completely gone in a relatively short amount of time."

"Would you _shut up_?!" Johnny yelled. "Must you contradict me on _everything_?!" He sounded exasperated for the most part, but a note of uncertainty lurked beneath. He sounded like someone trying to deny to himself that his hypothesis stood on shaky ground. Meat, of course, picked up on that.

"We'll see who's right eventually, Nny," he said, a smile in his voice.

"Stuff it, shithead."

"Oh, _that's_ mature."

Johnny bit his tongue, resisting the urge to hurl another insult. Instead, he just curled up a little tighter and turned his head to the side, his eyes falling on a large square picture hanging on his wall. It was a landscape, though it wasn't any landscape one would ever see on Earth. It was surreal, fanciful, distorted not by madness or delusion, but by the vibrant imagination of its painter. In the lower-right corner were the initials "J.C."

"You painted that once, didn't you?" Meat asked after a moment. "It's yours, isn't it, Nny?"

"Mmhm," Johnny replied quietly. His eyes softened, sadness settling in them. "Don't remember when. None of the paintings in this house are dated."

"Have you tried drawing or painting again since you left?"

"No. I don't draw anymore. Or paint. Not even stick figures like Happy Noodle Boy. My artistic bent has been gone so long, I know it's never coming back. Mere artist's block would have cleared up long before now. It's gone, not just blocked. Completely, utterly gone." The despair in his voice could no longer be concealed, and he grimaced at the tremor it put into his words. Though he didn't say so out loud, his skill in art was something else he didn't want to come back. There was so much passion in his paintings, so much feeling and drama. He knew, he just _knew_, that if he regained his artistic talent, there would be no _way_ for him to succeed at numbing himself to emotion. But, at the same time, he wanted desperately to return to the one activity he once threw himself wholeheartedly into. Painting had once been his greatest joy, and the hollow place in his soul his talent had left behind was still as painful as they day he had realized it had deserted him. His head balked at the idea of such a profound influence returning, but his heart refused to let go of his longing for it. Just like it refused to let go of his longing for—

No. He was _not_ going to go there. Not if he could help it.

"Just give it time, Nny," Meat said after studying Johnny's posture and expression. "Just give it time." His voice was soft now, almost soothing. Johnny could have sworn Reverend Meat actually cared about him. But that was ridiculous.

Johnny just hid his face again and sighed. It was a fragile sigh, as if his voice would break at any moment. His bony figure was hunched over, giving him the appearance of a man trying to protect himself from danger or harm. If anyone had been around to see, they would have thought it a pitiful sight, pathetic even.

"You're depressed, Nny," Meat said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "You need to change direction, find something worth striving for. You still care about Devi. I'll even go so far as to say you love her. Your last 'conversation' with her ended pretty disastrously, and this lack of proper closure is weighing you down. You should give her a call, or go over to her apartment, and—"

"No," Johnny cut him off. "Absolutely not. I already said goodbye to her, and I promised not to contact her anymore. I said I would give her my nothing. Even if I _did_ still care for her, I refuse to intrude upon her life any further."

"Don't try to deny your feelings for her, Nny," Meat warned, his voice hardening somewhat. "We both know that's an enormous lie."

"Fuck off!" Johnny growled. "Feelings or no, I am _not_ calling her! Neither am I going to see her!"

"That promise you made to her was ill-considered and stupidly made!" the burger boy shot back. "You heard her! She wanted you to pick up the phone! She wanted to talk to you! She wanted _you_ to talk to _her_, not give her some stupid recording! You two parted ways without proper closure, and _you're_ the one who lit the torch to burn the bridge! If you want to move forward in your life, you _must_ go back on your promise and call her again! Better yet, _go see her_!"

"No!" Johnny fairly screamed, gripping his short hair as if to rip it out. "No, no, _no_! A thousand times, _NO_!!!"

"Johnny C., you are acting like a baby," Meat stated bluntly. "You know your quest for coldness is futile, but you refuse to give it up. You've mired yourself in depression and moodiness, but you refuse to change directions. You ended things with that girl in the worst possible way, but you refuse to set things right. _Listen to me for once!!!_ You will not admit you were wrong and you will not face facts! Adults don't act like this, Nny, _children_ do! For Hell's sake, _grow up_!"

Johnny suddenly stood up from the bed. His fists were clenched so hard, his fingernails were threatening to tear through his palms. His dark eyes glared murderously at the ceramic statue on his dresser, and then he bent down and yanked his boots on.

"What are you doing?" Meat demanded.

"Going out," Johnny replied curtly, buckling the straps. "I'm taking a walk."

"Not over to Devi's?" It was obvious from Meat's tone that he already knew the answer.

"Of course not," the man snapped. "It's none of your business where I go, anyway."

"So, instead of acting your age, you're just going to run away from this conversation."

"Fuck you. I'll do what I want." Johnny stalked over to the door, which was standing halfway open, and jerked it wider.

"You still love Devi, Johnny," Reverend Meat said, absolute conviction in his voice. "Sooner or later, you'll seek her out again. If I'm not the one to convince you, you'll fall prey to your own desires. Either way, you'll go looking for her again. Mark my words."

Johnny turned and gave the statue an acid look. Pure venom sizzled in his eyes. It was the last thing many people in the past had seen before their lives were brutally cut short.

With that, the tall man was gone. Seconds later, the front door was wrenched open, then slammed shut an instant later.

Johnny fled the scene, running down the street toward the city like the Devil himself was after him. There was a deadly gleam in his eyes as a long-bladed knife was extracted from some hidden sheath.

Someone was going to die tonight.

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** This got a bit longer than I expected it to. I sincerely hope I didn't bore anybody with this chapter, which is essentially one long chunk of dialogue. Long conversations like this, I've found, are either extremely interesting or extremely tedious. I'm praying this fell on the interesting side of things. Please let me know what you think of this. If you thought this chapter was boring, it will get more interesting later on (I hope)! And did I keep Nny and Meat in character? Reviews and/or emails are always welcome, because I really want to know how I'm doing. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed chapter one!

Oh, and I've just been notified that my order with SLG has been shipped, so I should get _I Feel Sick_ soon! I also ordered the _Squee!_ collection and _Everything Can Be Beaten_. Hopefully, I won't have to delay writing chapter three! I can't say when it will arrive, though, so there's still the possibility I'll have to hold off for a little while. Keep your fingers crossed.

P.S. "Dementia praecox" ("precocious dementia" or "premature loss of mind") is the Latin term for schizophrenia. Since Nny exhibits the classic symptoms of this disease—hearing voices, withdrawal into the self, disassociation with reality—I figured it was an appropriate enough diagnosis for him. I'm no certified psychologist, but I fancy that I know a _few_ things about it.


	3. A Little Bit More Towards Red

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, Invader Sideos, CamelofDOOM, JuleWooster, Miscellaneous Penguin, and Sheamaru for reviewing chapter two! I'm glad you guys didn't find it as boring as I feared you would.

**Please note:** At the end of this chapter, I will be outlining my intended update schedule, as well as owning up to some mistakes I realize I've made. Please make sure to read that.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Three: A Little Bit More Towards Red**

_BEEBEEBEEBEEP! BEEBEEBEEBEEP!_

"Aw, shit…"

Devi D. twisted her neck, looking out through the kitchen door as best she could. The phone in the living room was ringing, but she currently had her head stuck under the faucet of her kitchen sink, rinsing shampoo and excess dye out of her hair. She wasn't exactly in a position to answer the phone at the moment.

"_Hey, it's Devi. Leave a message after the beep…"_

Through the sound of the running water, Devi could hear someone leaving a message on her answering machine. It sounded like a woman's voice, but she couldn't identify who it was or understand any of the words. After a moment, the caller stopped talking and hung up.

Devi finished rinsing her hair out and turned the water off, squeezing the excess water out of her hair with her free hand. Grabbing the towel she had brought in from the bathroom, she began rubbing her hair dry as she walked out of the kitchen toward the bedroom. Since her hair was short and air-dried quickly after a preliminary toweling-off, she hardly ever used a hairdryer. She didn't like the heat of the air being blown against her scalp when using a hairdryer, so that was fine by her.

After tossing the damp towel into her laundry hamper, she picked up her hairbrush and started smoothing it through her hair, humming softly to herself. She stopped after a few seconds, her green eyes widening slightly when she realized what she was doing.

"Damn, I _must_ be in a good mood today," she snickered to herself. Truth be told, she _was_ in unusually high spirits today. She wasn't _chipper_, as that wasn't her style, but her mood had been noticeably lighter than normal for the past few days. Briefly, she wondered if she was going crazy. Devi D. wasn't the sort of person to be humming to herself while brushing her hair. Not anymore, at any rate.

Finishing with her hair, she set her brush down and looked at herself in the mirror. She gave herself a critical look, gauging her new appearance.

"Hmm…not bad," she muttered, turning her head to look at herself from different angles. The hair dye she had bought last night was a color she had never tried before. It was purple, like her last color, but much warmer, markedly closer to red than before. It was now more magenta than straight violet.

_It contrasts well with my eyes_, she thought, giving herself a small, satisfied smile. _I'll have to wear a lighter shade of makeup than before, though, or I'll just clash._

BEEP!

Devi looked out into the living room with a sigh. Her answering machine had just beeped at her, announcing that a message was still sitting un-listened-to on its memory card. She hated that shrill beep. Therefore, she walked out of her bedroom and pushed the button labeled "PLAY/STOP".

"_Hi, Devi, it's me!"_ Tenna's voice chirped from the speaker. "_Give me a call when you get back, 'kay? Bye!"_

Devi picked up the phone as the machine's "voice" deadpanned the time and date the message was left. Knowing Tenna, she'd call every half hour until Devi either answered the phone or called back. She had returned home one afternoon after a staff meeting at the bookstore she had worked at and found five messages from Tenna asking if she was home yet. When Devi had called back, she had found out Tenna was just about to call a sixth time.

"Hello?" Tenna's voice said from the other end of the line.

"Hey, Tenna, it's me."

"Devi! Boy, you got home quick!"

"I was home the whole time" Devi explained. "You just called while I was washing my hair, so I couldn't answer."

"Ohhh, okay." The bubbly girl then giggled. "You sound rather happy today!"

"I suppose I am," Devi nodded, sitting down on the couch. "It's nice to be in a good mood for once."

"Sure is! Hey, how's work going?"

"It's getting better." She leaned back, propping one foot up on the edge of the couch. "Doppelganger Press is a much nicer place to be working for than Nerve Publishing. The higher-ups in the graphic arts division seem to actually _listen_ to their artists and value their creativity. They've asked for my input on the projects they've given me, and really listened to what I had to say. They won't let me do whatever I damn well please, of course, but I'm getting so much more artistic freedom than I ever got at Nerve."

"Awesome!" Tenna cheered, almost squealing. "How's your workload? You're not running yourself into the ground again, are you?"

"No," Devi answered, shaking her head. "I finally got smart and realized I didn't have to take every project they ran by me. There's always someone else who can take a job if I can't."

"Good!" Tenna grinned. "Eee, Devi! I'm so happy! Things are finally starting to get better for you! Isn't it great?!"

"Yeah," Devi sighed softly, an almost wistful tone to her words. "It is great." In all honesty, a feeling of dread had been simmering beneath the surface for the past week or two. Things _were_ getting better for her, almost too perfectly. The other shoe was bound to drop soon. Things never went her way this consistently. Something bad was going to happen after all this, and the longer it was in coming, the worse it would be. She was trying to ignore this feeling, as it always planted a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she faced it, but she couldn't completely bury it no matter how hard she tried.

"So, are you excited about your date with Derek tonight?" Tenna asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call myself _excited_," Devi answered, "but I am looking forward to it."

"How did you meet him, by the way?" Tenna wondered. "I don't think you ever told me."

"I met him at the Impressionist exhibit at the art museum about a week and a half ago," Devi explained. "I was only going there for the exhibit, to be honest. Looking for a date was the last thing on my mind, but there he was. He struck up a conversation with me on Impressionism and how it compared to other art styles, and we talked for I don't know how long. He eventually had to leave to get ready for work, but he gave me his phone number in case I wanted to call and continue talking. I did, obviously. He really knew what he was talking about, and I wanted to hear more of what he had to say. After talking on the phone several times, he asked me out."

"Yay!" Tenna chirped. "I'm so happy you're dating again! I _hated_ seeing you so alone like that!" Her voice suddenly dropped in tone, and she sounded almost serious as she asked, "Aren't you a little worried, though? Didn't the lady's fat tell you that you couldn't pursue social goals anymore, because the chance of you being happy had passed you by when you were a kid?"

"Yeah, the fat did tell me that," Devi shrugged. "I don't care, though. I've never been very inclined to believe 'psychic' predictions. It was right about the plane crash, but so what? _I'm_ going to be the one to decide how my life turns out, not some fat lady's psychic blubber."

Tenna giggled insanely at the mention of psychic blubber. "Derek's a stage actor, right?" she asked when she had managed to calm down.

"He is," Devi nodded. "He works as a security guard at a warehouse complex near the airport, but that's mainly to help pay his bills as he pursues his acting ambitions in the theater district." Derek being an aspiring actor was a small detail to Devi. If she found someone intelligent and pleasant to be with, she didn't care _what_ they did for a living. He could shovel shit at the zoo all day, for all she cared.

"Neat!" Tenna said. "Oh, damn! It's three o'clock! I'd love to keep chatting, Devi, but my cousin's flying in from Seattle today, and her flight's due in right now! I promised I'd meet her at the airport!"

"All right, Tenna," Devi said, glancing at her clock and seeing it was indeed three o'clock in the afternoon. "I was going to swing by the bookstore today and look around for some new reads, anyway."

"Okay, Devi!" Tenna squeaked, sounding as if she was running, perhaps to grab her coat. "I'll talk to you later! Have fun on your date!"

"Bye," Devi replied. She wasn't sure if Tenna really heard her, as the line went dead almost before the word was out of her mouth. She put the receiver down with a brief snort of laughter. That Tenna. She panicked so easily.

She stood up from the couch and stretched, feeling her spine pop. Walking back into her bedroom, she took her coat down from its hook in her closet and slipped it on, heading out toward her front door. She may as well leave for the bookstore now, so she'd get back in plenty of time to get ready for tonight.

Walking out her door, she felt a faint shiver pass through her body. She still felt a surge of nervousness whenever she left her apartment. For a while now, she had gradually been chipping away at her agoraphobia, going out into the world a little bit more each day. She was trying to move on with her life, and holing herself up at home all the time wasn't helping her do that. So, she had set out to be less reclusive and antisocial. She now found it almost as easy to leave home as it had been before she became such a hermit, but there was still that lingering anxiety that pricked her thoughts whenever she went out.

_Easy, girl_, she told herself as she locked her door. _There's nothing to be afraid of. You don't have to talk to anybody you don't want to._

Pocketing her keys, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked down the hallway toward the stairs.

* * *

"Hey, Nny."

"Shit! I'm hardly in the door before you open your mouth!"

"I'm just being friendly," Reverend Meat chided.

"Hmph," Johnny grunted, tossing a hammer and a gory iron chisel onto his dresser.

"Had some fun, did you?"

"You could say that," Johnny conceded, opening one of the dresser drawers. "That little bitch no longer has her eyes, at any rate."

"That must have been the shrieking I heard coming from a few floors down," Meat said. "Was she the one who called you a skinny little cock-sucking fag when she thought you were checking her out?"

"Yeah," Johnny nodded, pulling off his shirt to put on a clean one. "Foul-mouthed little slut she is…er, was. She hasn't been able to talk since I cut out her tongue."

"How fitting a punishment," Meat laughed. "Where are you going now?"

"Out," Johnny replied, donning a long coat over the t-shirt he had just put on. "I feel like going into town for a while."

"Going to find some new victims, I take it."

"If I run across anybody who needs killing, yeah."

Meat laughed again. "Well, have fun, Nny."

Johnny didn't respond. Without sparing the burger boy another glance, he grabbed his car keys and went out, walking down the narrow path to the sidewalk where a little gray car waited.

* * *

Starting her car up, Devi realized the radio was turned off. She usually kept the radio on rather than turning it on and off every time she started and stopped the engine. A song she hated had come on last time she was driving, and she had switched the radio off to keep from listening to it. Having been two minutes from home at the time, she hadn't turned it back on before shutting the car off.

Sound filled the car as she twisted the volume knob. As she backed out of her parking spot, she realized it was a news blurb she was hearing. Normally, she listened to them as attentively as she listened to commercials, but what the reporter was saying caught her interest.

"…_still no leads in the triple homicide perpetrated earlier this week. Police are asking the public to call in if they have any tips regarding this violent crime. If you have anything to tell police in connection to this incident, please call the 42nd precinct headquarters at…"_

Devi felt a chill run through her. She had seen this on the morning news four days ago. A couple of maids had found a family of three murdered in a hotel room downtown. The throats of all three of them had been slashed so brutally that they were almost decapitated. The mother had been scalped, her hair hanging on a lampshade like a grotesque decoration, while the father and son were missing the skin off their faces, as if someone had flayed it off. Finally, the words "pain", "hate", and "kill" had been carved multiple times into each of their bodies. The level of bleeding indicated that their throats had been slit last, meaning they had been alive to feel the pain of everything else. The whole ordeal was sickening.

An intense panic had raced through her upon hearing of the brutal triple murder. Her immediate thought was that _he_ had come back. After months of silence, just as her life was starting to get back on track, it seemed her worst fear was suddenly coming true. She had almost screamed at the sheer horror of it.

Just as she was about to call Tenna, almost in tears, her voice of reason had finally spoken loud enough for her to hear it through her fright. Johnny C. wasn't the only knife-wielding psycho in this city. The odds were that he had nothing to do with it. There were plenty of people in prison for murder, and probably plenty more with homicidal tendencies out running the streets. Not every killing during Johnny's reign of terror could be attributed to him, and killings had continued to happen ever since he disappeared. This one was just more sadistic than most. There was no reason for her to assume he was the one behind it. Still, she had been a nervous wreck for most of the day afterward, and hadn't been able to do any work on her current project for Doppelganger until the next morning.

Johnny C. Every time she thought about him, myriad emotions sprang up. For a while after The Date, her feelings concerning him had been mainly fear and hatred, but more recently, things had been different. Ever since her struggle with Sickness, ever since her own brush with madness, she didn't know what to think when it came to him. She was still deathly afraid of meeting him again, and she was pretty sure she still hated him, but so many other things came along with those two emotions that it made her head spin.

Her sick realization in Mr. Nevers' office of the connection between Johnny and what she had been going through had been the start of her confusion regarding the reclusive intellectual. The symptoms of his ailment, of his apparent loss of his artistic skill, were exactly the same things she had been experiencing. The draining of imagination and creativity, the increasing frustration and anger, the shrinking (and in his case, eventual disappearance of) self esteem, the mounting irritation and disgust with the world and everyone in it, the rapidly growing urge to violently lash out at others…everything he had described that night under the stars matched what she had been suffering perfectly. And Sickness had been introduced to Devi through her contact with Johnny. The man had been dealing with the parent of Devi's little mental leech since who knows how long before the two of them had met in Dragon's Books.

After her ordeal with Sickness had passed, and she allowed herself to fully realize just what it all meant, she had felt a horror so powerful that it literally made her ill. Before she knew what she was doing, she had been hanging over the toilet bowl, violently retching up the contents of her stomach. Johnny was so sick, so twisted and warped…who knew how long he had been in the clutches of his sickness? How long had his mind and soul been progressively poisoned by the demon that had a hold of him? The thought made her stomach turn even now.

Sympathy, however, was not the only thing this realization had triggered. She was furious at Johnny, not only because he had tried to kill her, but because he had not overcome his enemy. She had beaten Sickness, pinning the doll to her easel with the shaft of a paintbrush and plucking out the screws she used for eyes. As an extra precaution, she had torn the doll to pieces, thrown the bloody chunks into a large cooking pot in her kitchen, poured paint thinner over them, and then burned them to ashes. She had banished Sickness' voice from her head entirely, relegating her to complete nothingness. Devi had won.

But Johnny had lost, succumbing to madness and violence. He had not only tried to kill her, but had tortured, mutilated, and murdered countless others who were not as lucky as she had been. He shouldn't have given in. He should have overcome it like she had.

Her rational side told her that it wasn't fair for her to think that. Sickness had been just an offshoot of the power Johnny had contended with, and so must have been easier to triumph over. As overwhelming and manipulative Sickness had been, she must have paled in comparison to whatever had been assaulting Johnny C. And Devi had no way of knowing if Johnny's monster had even given him a choice. He could have just been taken and fed upon no matter how much resistance he put up. How was Devi to say how long or how hard Johnny had struggled to retain control of his life? For all she knew, he had fought tooth and nail the whole way down.

Still, she just couldn't find it in herself to forgive him. The selfish, unreasonable part of her refused to let go of the massive grudge she held against Johnny for shattering her rosy image of him. The realization that the man she had thought her perfect match was just a bloody, sadistic killer had been a huge trauma to her, and the attempt on her life had made it even worse. She didn't think she would ever totally get over it.

_It's best not to think about him_, she told herself as she turned the corner leading to Dragon's Books, her old workplace. _I know that if I ever see him again, I'll just explode. I should just get on with my life and hope we never cross paths again._ She hoped what he said about giving her his "nothing" was sincere.

With a sigh, she pulled up in front of the bookstore. She hadn't liked working here, as she just wasn't cut out for retail, but she liked it as a customer. Their selection of books was unique, and she often found things there that she wouldn't find in one of the big chain bookstores. Inevitably, some of the stuff they sold was utter shit, but she had found a few gems while browsing their crowded, compact shelves. She had bought some of her favorite books there, in fact.

Turning the car off and pulling the key from the ignition, she opened the door and stepped out.

* * *

"Hmm…"

Johnny stood beside his car, watching people as they scurried along on their business. The skirt of his long coat fluttered in the faint breeze, his hair following suit. The area he was in was fairly open, and he could easily see for a fair distance around him. Nobody had noticed him yet, but that was no surprise. He never seemed to be noticed by anyone except when he was being mocked or bullied.

"I guess I'll just walk until I find someplace to go," he muttered to himself.

Turning to the east, he set off, barely watching where he was going.

* * *

"Hi, Devi!"

"Hey there, Twyla," Devi replied.

Behind the front counter stood a girl in her early twenties. She had been hired to replace Devi when she had quit working there to follow her artistic career, and her bubbly personality was on par with Tenna's. Fortunately, Devi's experience with Tenna had given her a healthy immunity to ditziness like Twyla's.

"Are you looking for anything in particular today?" the girl asked.

"Not really," Devi shrugged. "I just wanted to browse for something new to read. I haven't bought any new books in a while."

"No kidding," Twyla nodded, her eyes wide. "I haven't seen you in here for ages! What happened?"

"I've been…busy," Devi said, hesitating a bit. "Work's been kinda hectic lately." She didn't think mentioning her battle with a brain-leaching doll would be a good idea, so she didn't.

"I understand," Twyla nodded again. "Well, take a look around! Let me know if you need help with anything!"

"I will, thanks," Devi said, walking toward the interior of the shop. It wasn't a very big place, but there was a lot of stuff crammed into what space there was. There was bound to be something she wanted to read in here somewhere.

Scanning slowly through the numerous spines, she worked her way toward the back of the store. It wasn't until she was about to turn a corner that led to the back wall that she realized she wasn't the only customer in here. Two women were in a back corner, talking.

"Did you hear the latest about that triple murder from a few days ago?" one was asking the other as Devi came closer.

"No," the other replied, sounding a bit bored. "I don't pay much attention to the news."

"Well, I do," the first one said, sounding as if the other's attitude bothered her a bit. "The police still haven't found any leads yet, and are urging the public to call in with any tips they might have."

"How is that anything new?" the second woman asked, sounding annoyed. "They always do that if they can't find any leads on a case."

"Yeah, but this time it's different," the first woman insisted. "Remember that long string of murders and disappearances a while back? Police never got anywhere investigating those cases, either. Whoever was behind them left almost no clues behind, and any clues police _did_ find only led to dead ends. Most people are convinced it was the work of a professional or a group of professionals."

"What does that have to do with the triple murder earlier this week?" the second woman asked.

"Oh, come _on_!" the first woman huffed, impatient. "Isn't it obvious? Rumors are running rampant that the person or people behind all those killings a while ago are behind what happened earlier this week! Don't you get it?! It's happening all over again!" Fear and urgency was in her voice, and she was getting louder.

"Maybe," the second woman shrugged. She apparently wasn't one to get stressed out over rumors.

"You're impossible!" the first woman whined. Gossip-mongers often got offended if their stories and rumors weren't believed by those they told them to, and this woman seemed to be no exception.

Devi, however, had gone absolutely white. The conversation she had overheard brought an unstoppable rush of fear welling up inside of her, and she fairly ran out of earshot of the two women. Her heart was beating so hard, she could feel the blood pounding in her neck.

_No, no, no!_ she screamed inwardly. _It's not him! He's not back! He can't be back! Not HIM!_

"Devi?" Twyla asked, and the taller woman realized that the young salesgirl was peering up into her face.

"W-what…?" Devi managed, her voice trembling.

"Are you okay?" the girl frowned, concern in her eyes. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I'm…I'm fine." Devi ran her hand through her hair, realizing that she was also sweating.

"You don't look fine," Twyla said, taking Devi's wrist. "There's a stool behind the counter. Why don't you sit down for a few minutes? I'll get you some water from the back."

"Thank you," Devi nodded, trying to quell her shaking. Doing as the girl asked, she went behind the front counter and sat down on the stool she found in a corner there. She shook her head no to Twyla's question as to whether she was about to faint and leaned back against the wall as the girl went back to get a glass of water.

The sounds of the street filtered through the large window next to her. Glancing up at the posters hanging on the glass, she saw through the back of one that it was for an upcoming book from Doppelganger Press. It was one of the books she had done illustrations for, in fact. A small wave of pride washed through her, and a nervous smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

A shadow suddenly passed over the poster as someone walked by the window outside. The shadow moved too quickly for her to see around the poster who it was before they passed out of sight, but her heart sped up again, dread suddenly lancing through her. She thought she knew that shadow.

_Oh, God!_ she silently shrieked as she leaped to her feet. _It can't be…!_

Bells jingled as the door was pushed open from the outside.

"Here's your water, Devi!" Twyla chirped as she came back up, a glass in her hand. "Devi…?"

Devi stood stock-still, eyes impossibly wide as she stared at the man who had just entered. Her throat closed up, choking off the scream that welled up in her chest, fighting in vain to be released. Her heart seemed about to burst through her ribcage, and she wobbled slightly on her feet, her knees threatening to buckle.

_This can't be happening!_

Johnny C. had just walked in the door.

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Yes, I realize that he not being a waste-lock probably means Nny no longer has the supernatural protection that keeps him from getting caught. I'm choosing to ignore that, though. It just wouldn't be Nny if he weren't able to kill and get away with it.

I said at the beginning of this chapter that I'd outline my intended update schedule. To be honest, I don't have a solid, set-in-stone schedule in mind, as I'm very unlikely to follow something so rigid. I do intend, however, to post a new chapter about once every two weeks. I have no specific dates in mind, but Friday or Saturday is the most likely, as that's my weekend. I'd update more often, but that would be difficult with my job, so I'm not going to push myself. It's possible I could update more often than every other week, but I'm not counting on it. There's also the possibility of life throwing me some curveballs and making me update _less_ often than I intend, but hopefully that won't happen. If it does, though, please be patient with me. I'll get the new chapter up as quickly as I can.

Now, there are a couple mistakes I realize I've made in the first two chapters. The first is that Devi's hair was black on her date with Nny, so saying that he's reminded of her whenever he sees purple hair may not be the most accurate. My bad.

The second mistake is I had Reverend Meat say that less than three months have passed since Nny went on his "holiday". I realize now that three months likely isn't long enough. I don't know how long it is between _JTHM_ and _I Feel Sick_, nor do I know how long of a time period _I Feel Sick_ spans. Devi seems to have been working for Nerve for some time when her comic takes place, and she was still working at the bookstore for a while after her date with Nny. Also, there's a flashback in _I Feel Sick_ to another of her disastrous dates, and she told the guy she was out with that she had just taken on a shitload of painting work, indicating she was working for Nerve at the time. That plus her purple hair means that this date was post-Nny. I highly doubt she'd jump right into another relationship after Nny traumatized her, and the length of her hair in the flashback was noticeably shorter than in the rest of the comic, so there had to have been some amount of time between her date with Nny and her date with the zombie dude, and then again between her date with the zombie dude and the present day. And, of course, there's been some time between _I Feel Sick_ and this fanfic. So, three months sounds like an awfully short amount of time for all this to happen in, doesn't it? Just pretend Meat gave Nny a different figure back in chapter one. I may go back and change it sometime, but I'm not going to bother at the moment. It's getting late. Please excuse my laziness.

Anyway, I'm done rambling. Did you guys like chapter three? I hope so. I'm not sure if I kept Devi in character or not, and I'm afraid I made her too happy in the first scene. Did I do that, or am I just being overly critical? Please let me know, and tell me how you like the rest of the chapter, too. Reviews are encouraged and always welcome. Thanks again to those of you who reviewed chapter two! See you next time!

P.S. I got curious and looked Devi's name up on a baby names website. It turns out that it's Sanskrit for "Goddess of Power". I think it's a rather fitting name for her, don't you?

P.P.S. Twyla was my brother's cat's name. I thought it was cute, so I used it. Unfortunately, Twyla has passed away, so she's no longer around. Rest in peace, kitty.


	4. Cause and Effect

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, LiLSoRacHaN, Mrs. Terwilliger, Sheamaru, JuleWooster, Miscellaneous Penguin, SpamWarrior, and CamelofDOOM for reviewing chapter three! I'm glad you guys liked the cliffhanger at the end. I was afraid it was too obvious that it was going to happen, but I'm glad it went off so well. Thanks!

I apologize if the first scene in this chapter seems awkward. It gave me a fair amount of trouble, so I'm not sure if it's my best work. It's passable, but…argh. If you don't like the first scene, please don't kill me. I tried my hardest.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Four: Cause and Effect**

Johnny blinked. He had just walked into a store without realizing it. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't registered where he was going. So intent were his plans to catch up to, capture, and torture the fucking slob who had knocked him down and kicked him in the ribs a little while ago—to impress his equally witless buddies, of course—that he had been essentially walking on autopilot. His feet had carried him into this store of their own accord.

_Wow, it's been a while since I've been in here_, he mused, rubbing the surely bruised spot on his side where he had been kicked. He recognized the packed bookshelves and parquet-patterned carpet like it was his own home. He used to come in here all the time.

His eyes widened in alarm when something clicked in his brain and reminded him just where exactly _here_ was.

Dragon's Books.

His gaze instinctively swung around to where he knew the front counter would be as he took a step back, as if expecting an attack. _Oh, shi—!_

Devi.

There she was, standing behind the counter as she always had been when he used to come in here nearly every day. Her hair was a bright magenta color that she hadn't had before, and it was hanging loose almost to her shoulders, longer than he had ever seen it, but he barely registered this change in her appearance. He wouldn't forget the face framed by that hair in a million years.

She was staring at him, seemingly frozen in place, utter shock and horror on her face. He suspected that he was looking back at her with a similar expression.

"Is this someone you know, Devi?" a female voice suddenly broke into his panic. A young woman wearing an employee apron was standing a few feet away from them, a glass of water in her hand. She looked disconcerted by the scene before her.

"I…I…uh…" Johnny managed to stutter before Devi could answer. He held up his hands and started backing toward the door. "I didn't mean…eh…well…I didn't know…I'll be going n—"

Devi finally moved, slamming her hand down on the counter, cutting Johnny off and making him flinch. Her look of shock had been instantly replaced with one of rage.

"I-I mean…!" He held his hands out in front of him, as if she were a predator about to pounce on him.

"Devi?" Twyla asked, getting more and more nervous. "Dev—WHOA!"

Johnny eeped in surprise, edging closer to the door behind him. Devi had just braced both hands on the counter and vaulted herself bodily over it. There was now nothing between them, and the look of absolute hatred seething in her eyes made him swallow hard. Her hands were clenched into fists as she fully faced him, and she looked as if she wanted nothing more than to have those fists clamped around his scrawny neck.

_FUCK!!!_

"What's going on?!" Twyla cried, clearly frightened by her friend's behavior toward this stranger. "Devi, who is this pers—hey! HEY! Wait!"

Devi had surged forward, grabbing one of Johnny's wrists and dragging him out of the shop. She slammed through the door so hard, it banged against the outside wall, the large glass panel in the middle groaning threateningly. The two of them disappeared down the street, leaving a shocked and very bewildered Twyla staring at the door as it swung quickly shut.

_Fuck!_ Johnny screamed at himself as an obviously very angry Devi yanked him after her. _Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Why the HELL did you go in there?! You promised she would never see you again! And you go waltzing right into where she works! You FUCKING IDIOT! AAAAAUGH!!!_

His internal tirade was cut short as he was suddenly and violently swung around. Stumbling, he managed to regain his balance, but only barely. He realized he was in an empty alleyway a split second before he was shoved deeper into the narrow passageway from behind. A female voice, shaking and high-pitched in anger, assaulted his ears.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you were doing in there?!" Devi raged at him. "Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?! Walking right into that store like you _own_ it?! Walking back into _my life_?! God _damn_ it, Johnny, you little _shit_! You said you'd _leave me the fuck alone_!"

"I know!" Johnny fairly shouted back. "I—"

"Then why the fuck are you here?!"

"I don't know! I didn't mean to go in there! It was an accident!" The second it was out of his mouth, he realized how stupid it must have sounded.

"That's bullshit!" she bit back, raising a hand as if to strike him. "What do you take me for, an idiot?!"

"No!" Johnny was visibly aghast at the thought of thinking such an intelligent and vibrant woman an idiot.

"Then don't give me shit excuses like that!"

"It's not a shit excuse!" Johnny insisted, frustration beginning to replace his panic. "I swear I never meant to let you see me!" He cringed when he realized the implications of his words.

"Oh, _I_ see," Devi ground out between her teeth. "You were going to wait until I left the bookstore, then drag me into some dark corner and kill me, right? Is _that_ it?!"

"Devi, I would never hurt you!"

"Bullshit! You expect me to believe that?! After what you did?! I'm not stupid, Johnny!"

"I know you aren't," Johnny said quietly after a few seconds, his volume dropping off abruptly. "You're the smartest person I've ever known. I've never met _anyone_ whose mind I've admired more. I would never think you stupid."

"Gee, I'm flattered," Devi hissed sarcastically. "That doesn't tell my why you dragged your sorry ass back into my life!"

Johnny shook his head. "I didn't mean to. I swear it. I never meant to walk into that store. It just happened. Please, you've got to believe me." He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, fighting off the sudden urge to cry. He had sworn both to her and to himself that he would obliterate all feelings he had for her, swearing also that they would never cross paths again for as long as they lived. The first part of that promise was becoming increasingly difficult to fulfill, and the second part had just been smashed into pieces. It was enough to make him scream in frustration, yet he managed to restrain himself, biting his tongue so hard it bled.

Devi put her head in her hands and gave an exasperated sigh. "God damn it, Nny."

"I'm sorry…"

"SHUT UP!" she shouted, slamming her fist against the cement wall next to her, making him jump. "Shut _up_, Nny! Do you have _any_ idea what I've been through?! Do you have any _idea_ how hard I've been trying to get my life back on track?! How much I've had to force myself through just to function?! _Damn_ it! I've never fought so hard in my life! And now look! You come strolling back into my life and fuck everything up! Shit! I had a great day ahead of me, and then _you_ show up!"

"Devi, I never meant to—"

"Stop saying that! Stop pretending this is all some accident!"

"It _was_ an accident!" he insisted. "I didn't even realize I was _near_ Dragon's Books until I was in the door!"

"I don't give a _fuck_!" she yelled back, her voice getting shrill again. "That doesn't change the fact that the _last_ person I want to see just _waltzed right back into my life!_"

Johnny was silent again, his eyes downcast. "I know it doesn't," he finally said, his voice soft. "I know I just ruined your day. Hell, I probably ruined your whole week. But…please believe me, Devi. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for us to meet at all, today or any day. I was just as surprised as you were, I swear. If I could take it all back, I would."

Devi crossed her arms and looked away. Just what exactly did he mean by that? _If I could take it all back, I would._ It almost sounded as if he were apologizing for everything that had happened since their ill-fated date so many months ago. But that was impossible. He didn't _know_ everything that had happened since then. He had no idea of her ordeal with Sickness, and he probably assumed she still worked at the bookstore. He was apologizing for what had happened today, that's all. Still…that one sentence set off a sharp twinge of regret deep in her guts. The feeling of loss and disappointment she had experienced upon realizing he _wasn't_ the man she thought he was hadn't dulled much at all since she had first felt it. What if things had turned out differently? What if they—

She shook her head firmly. Now was not the time to think about that.

"You're the one who killed those three people earlier this week," she asked suddenly, looking him straight in the eye. It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes," he replied, meeting her eyes steadily. Lying would get him nowhere with her, so he didn't even try to hide the truth.

"You're still kidnapping people to torture and kill in your basement, aren't you?" she pressed.

"Yes," he said again, giving a slight nod.

"So how do I know you're not going to try to kill _me_ again, huh?!" she snapped, her tone rising again.

"I won't! I would never!"

"How do I _know_ that?!"

"I…I guess you don't," he mumbled, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and looking down at the ground. "All you have is my word."

"Yeah, and we all know how good _that_ is," she jabbed, no small amount of venom in her voice.

Johnny flinched, stung. He knew he deserved it, though, so he didn't contradict her.

"Just how many people did you kill while you were away?" she asked. "How many throats did you slit before they even knew you were there?"

"I dunno," he shrugged. "I lost count after the first month or so."

"Jesus Christ," she hissed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of futility. She should have known.

"I'm sor—"

"Forget it, Johnny," she interrupted, her teeth clenched. "Stop apologizing. I don't want to hear it."

"Then what do you want me to do?" he asked.

"You can stay the hell away from me, that's what," she replied testily. "I don't want to see you ever _fucking_ again. I don't want to _see_ you, I don't want to hear your _voice_, hell I don't want to even _remember_ you. You got that through your head? _Stay out of my life._"

Without another word or even a look back, she turned and marched out of the alleyway. A tiny part of her warned never to turn her back to a known murderer, but she was too pissed off to listen to reason. She'd be damned if she even acknowledged his existence anymore. He was dead and buried, as far as she was concerned.

Johnny just stood there and watched her walk away. His hands were shaking, and a thousand different emotions were roiling in his chest, threatening to shatter his already broken heart. He thought he heard Reverend Meat's voice whispering smugly into his ear…

_So much for obliterating all of your affection and interest for her._

He whipped around with an agonized shriek, slamming his foot into a nearby garbage can and sending it sprawling, its contents spewing out all over the ground. The crash was deafening in the confined space of the alley, the sound ricocheting off the walls all around him. The force of his spin knocked him off balance, and he fell painfully to his knees, feeling them bruise against the hard concrete.

His bony fingers clutched at his dark hair, pulling his head down painfully, straining his neck as he unconsciously tried to curl up. A low moan of despair escaped his throat, tears finally flowing from his tightly-shut eyes.

Fuck, he hated himself.

* * *

The apartment door slammed behind her. Wasting no time, she quickly turned around and flipped all four of the deadbolts firmly in place. When that was done, she stood there for several seconds, just staring at the light purple paint of the door. 

Finally, she let out a long sigh, leaning her forehead against the wood, her hands coming up to rest there as well. Her little outing to the bookstore couldn't possibly have ended in a worse fashion.

Well…that wasn't true. She could have been hit by a drunk driver and run off the road, or grabbed by some serial rapist and had who-knows-what done to her, or had one of Johnny's knives lodged between her ribs as she walked away from him, or…

Fuck, she didn't care about what _could have_ happened. She cared about what _did_ happen, and what _did_ happen was the one thing she had hoped and prayed would never, ever come to pass. She had met Johnny C. again. Not only that, but instead of letting him leave the bookstore, as he seemed about to do, she had grabbed him and shoved him into a dark alley to scream at him.

"Stupid," she muttered. "God damn it, that was _stupid_!" She balled her left hand into a fist and hit at the door, clenching her teeth in anger. Could she have done _anything_ less wise? Instead of putting as much distance between herself and Johnny as possible, she had cornered him in a place where nobody would see if he turned vicious and attacked her. Not only that, but she had fully turned her back on him when she finally did retreat, giving him a wide-open target. He could have sliced through her back to her heart before she even realized he had moved.

_You're a fucking idiot, Devi_, she thought bitterly.

A shiver passed through her as she recalled what had happened _after_ she had exited the alley. She hadn't been even half a building away when an unearthly scream reached her ears, followed quickly by a loud, metal crash. The sound had been barely human, as if ripped from the throats of the damned, writhing in their eternal torment in the deepest pits of Hell. Bottomless misery had echoed in that wailing cry, and she had almost answered with a scream of her own. The horror had so overwhelmed her that she had literally sprinted back to her car, jumping in and starting the engine before she even had the door closed.

Pushing away from the door, she turned around and faced the living room. Things looked so much duller than when she had left. Her unusually happy mood was now gone, and it seemed as if the color had drained out of the world with it. It made her want, if only for a second, to burst into tears.

_Maybe I should paint_, she thought. _Yeah, that's it. Do some work on my latest job. Get my mind off of things. That'll do it._

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it on the coffee table. Turning to her right, she entered the drawing room.

An empty canvas stood in the middle of the room, the paint-splattered drop cloth covering the carpet underneath. Yesterday afternoon, the last time she had done any painting, she had finished the picture she had been working on and moved it out to the living room to finish drying. Out of habit, she had placed a new canvas on the easel, in case the urge to paint something hit her suddenly. She hated setting up when her brain was screaming at her to start _now_.

She took a step toward the easel, then stopped, realizing she hadn't finished conceptualizing the rest of the commissioned pictures in her current assignment. She really didn't have anything more to do for it yet. If she was going to do any painting, it would have to be something personal.

Walking the rest of the way to the easel, she stared at the blank surface for several minutes, scrutinizing the tightly-packed fibers a bit harder than was necessary. It was an ordinary canvas, just like all the others she had painted on. She looked away only when her vision started to blur, and she realized that she was going cross-eyed with the intensity of her steady stare. Blinking the blurriness away, she looked away and found herself gazing at a pile of used canvasses that had been thrown into a corner and left there. Those were the discards, the paintings that had gone wrong or had dissatisfied her in some way. She usually knew that a painting wasn't going the way she wanted pretty early on, but sometimes they were almost finished before she rejected them. She always lamented the lost time and effort that had gone into those ones, but what could she do but push them aside and start over?

She hadn't taken the discards to the dumpster in a long time, and the stack was taller than it usually got before being thrown out. A corner sticking out from near the middle of the pile caught her eye, making her come closer. The paint on that corner was red, giving her the strange impression that it was actually blood. Ever since cutting her hands wide open while trying to fend Sickness off, red paint always gave her a bit of a shiver when she saw it in large quantities.

Grasping the corner that had caught her eye, she pulled the canvas it belonged to out of the pile, letting the ones on top slide off and fall haphazardly back into their places.

This was…_the_ canvas.

A gaping hole in the red paint stared back at her, the outline of a small pigtailed doll suspended in the very middle. It was the imprint left behind when Sickness had crawled out of it into the three-dimensional world. The jagged edges and cracks in the red, like a window broken by some airborne object, were from the strain placed upon it while the doll had worked on taking real form. What had started out as just layers of pigment had gradually morphed into a tangible object, as solid as if it had come off of a toy factory assembly line.

Devi scowled darkly at the canvas, her lip curling in disgust. It was all Johnny's fault. That fucker had introduced her, however unintentionally, to this mental parasite, and she had almost lost ownership of her mind to a malignant creature from some other realm. And he had no idea what he had done to her, to the woman he claimed to "like immensely".

How dare he?

With a short cry of anger, she heaved the canvas up over her head and brought it down hard against the floor, cracking it in two. Dry chips of paint flew into the air, and she accidentally inhaled one into her nose, making her sneeze violently.

"Gah…fucking shit," she grumbled, rubbing her nose. For a moment, she actually wished Sickness was here again. It wasn't so her mind could be fed upon, of course, but so she could tear the doll apart again. It would be so much more gratifying than breaking an already ruined canvas in half. Alas, Sickness had been relegated to nothingness. Devi would have to satisfy herself with destroying the doll's former home.

She wasn't going to get any painting done today.

Sighing, she looked up at the clock on the drawing room wall. It was almost five o'clock. Derek was supposed to pick her up for their date around six-thirty.

_May as well start getting ready_, she thought. _I look like a fucking mess. I'll need all the time I can get._

Walking out of the drawing room, she headed for the bathroom. A shower was first on the itinerary. She had washed her hair this morning when she had dyed it, but she hadn't taken a full shower since yesterday morning. If she went out tonight without taking one, she'd be constantly worrying whether she smelled like sweat or not.

_I am _not _going to let Johnny ruin tonight. I'll cut off both my hands sooner than let that fucker run my life again.

* * *

_

_SLAM!_

"Fucking hell…" Johnny growled. He was standing in his living room, glaring murderously at nothing in particular. His short hair was standing up at odd angles, dirt and alleyway crud clung to his pants from when he had fallen to his knees, and dried tears streaked his thin face, all giving him a wrung-out, haggard appearance. Most noticeable of all, his clothes were stained with sticky, drying blood. A grimy, gory knife was clutched in his hand, knuckles white with the strength of his grip.

Damn it. He was _pissed_.

He was angry at himself more than anything else. Like a fucking imbecile, he had walked right into Devi's work. The meeting had set off the biggest storm of emotions he had felt in a long time, and had obviously thrown a wrench into Devi's day as well. Not only had he broken his promise to her, he had inflicted the biggest setback yet on his pursuit of emotional numbness. After breaking down in the alleyway, crying until he had no more tears left in him, his despair had quickly turned to blood rage. Before he had realized it, the knife he kept in his left boot was in his hand.

Now, four hookers and three of their prospective clients lay dead behind the Lusty Lady downtown. Streetwalkers frequently hung out around the strip club, picking up the drunken, horny men as they left the dancehall. Johnny loathed such vulgar behavior, so the slaughter had given him a rush of savage satisfaction. That satisfaction had since faded, however, giving way once again to his seething fury.

"Hey there, Nny," Reverend Meat grinned as he stomped into the bedroom. "Looks like you had a good time downtown."

Without even looking, Johnny whipped his arm out toward the voice, flinging the knife at Reverend Meat. The blood-spattered blade buried itself nearly to the hilt in the cardboard box Meat sat upon, rattling the ceramic figure on top.

"Whoa!" Meat exclaimed, not expecting that. "What's up _your_ ass?"

"SHUT UP!" Johnny shouted, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I am in _no mood_ for your shit!"

"Are you ever?" Meat countered, a sneer in his voice. "I swear, Nny, you throw temper tantrums like a five-year-old."

Johnny gave a wordless, infuriated cry, grabbing one of the handles sticking up out of the umbrella stand to the left of the dresser. With a tremendous yank, he extracted a grim-looking axe, its wicked blade stained black with the blood of previous victims. The umbrella stand fell over with the force of his pull, but he paid it no mind.

"What are you going to do with that?" Meat asked. "Hey! Where are you going?"

Johnny didn't answer as he exited the bedroom. His footsteps quickened to a run before they slowly faded into the endless network of basements below the tiny house. He was descending.

Moments later, the screaming began.

* * *

_Beep! Beep!_

Devi looked up from her mirror at the sound of a car horn. Her clock said six-thirty on the dot.

_That must be Derek_, she thought. _He's right on time._

Going over to her window, she flung it wide and leaned out, spying a little blue car idling in the parking lot down below. A man was leaning out the window, waving up at her. Sure enough, it was Derek O'Farrell.

"I'll be right down!" she called out. Seeing him give her the thumbs-up sign, she leaned back in and closed the window. Looking in her mirror again, she gave herself a quick once-over, smiling as she did so. Makeup, hair, dress…everything looked perfect. Grabbing her nice black coat out of her closet—she wasn't going to wear her regular old brown one on a date—she practically ran out of the apartment, stopping only to make sure the door was locked behind her.

_Oh, please let tonight go well!_ she prayed to whatever supreme being may be listening. Butterflies the size of vultures were fluttering in her stomach. Her last date had been with a guy who turned out to be a brain-chomping zombie. She hoped Derek wasn't hiding anything like _that_ under his amiable smile.

The sun was half set as she trotted out into the parking lot, giving the world a soft, orangey glow. She glanced at the sunset, taking note of how pretty it was before opening the passenger-side door of Derek's car and seating herself inside.

"Hey there, beautiful," Derek said with a grin. "You look great!"

"Thanks," she replied, a hint of an honest blush coming to her face. She reached over her shoulder and pulled the seatbelt out to buckle up as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot.

"You're going to enjoy tonight, Devi," Derek assured her as they started down the road. "I got it all planned out."

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Gah. This chapter turned out a bit different than expected. I don't think it's quite the best I could do, but I'm going to have to live with it. Like I said before the chapter, I had trouble composing the first scene. If I went back and tried to tweak it, though, I know I'll just make it worse. I have a nasty habit of failing miserably when I try to improve something. If I scrap it entirely and start over, I'll just turn out crap. So, I hope you all think that the first scene, though not my best work, is passable. I really did try my hardest with it.

Randomly, I figure Johnny assumes Devi is still working at the bookstore. I don't think he's had any chance yet to find out she's quit to work as a professional artist. This detail isn't very important, but I thought I'd mention it.

So, what do you think? Is this chapter as good as the others? I hope so. It's taken me almost six hours to finish, and that's not counting the time it took to edit it. My fucktard neighbors were playing loud music while I was editing, too, which made _that_ take longer than it should have. Rrrrr. I hope you guys like this chapter as much as you liked the first three. Please let me know what you think. Hearing from my readers makes me ever so happy.

T.T.F.N.! Ta-ta for now!


	5. The Sandman Speaks

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, JuleWooster, Miscellaneous Penguin, Invader Sideos, GuesssWho, PhantomVarg, Sheamaru, and kr0n for reviewing chapter four! I didn't think it was the best I could do, so I was very happy to hear that you all still liked it. Also, thanks to Invader Sideos for retro-reviewing chapter three, and norn for retro-reviewing chapter two.

I'm really sorry I made you guys wait an extra week for chapter five. Life kinda came rushing up at me, and I didn't have the energy or motivation to write anything. I had three doctor visits in the span of a week, work was getting insanely busy, and my mood took a major downturn in the middle of it all. I'm feeling better now, though, so no worries. I _might_ make it up to you guys by getting chapter six up in one week instead of two, but…we'll see. Keep your fingers crossed, but don't pester me about it. If I don't get it done in a week, I don't get it done in a week. My aunt and cousin just flew in from Kansas, so it's very possible I won't have enough time to get it written so soon. I'll get it up when it's finished, whenever that is.

Yes, the title of this chapter is a reference to Neil Gaiman's _The Sandman_. No, it does not mean this story is a crossover. It's merely an homage I'm paying to another of my favorite comic series. Those of you familiar with _The Sandman_ will probably see the reason for the chapter title once you've finished reading. If you don't get it, I'll give a short explanation after the chapter.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Five: The Sandman Speaks**

_chng_…_chng_…_chng…chng…chng…chng…chng…chng…chng…chng…chng…_

"Mmmrph…"

Devi cracked her eyes open, peering at the clock on her bedroom wall. She thought she had heard the clock out in the living room chiming eleven o'clock, the sound meandering in through her open door and waking her up.

Yep, she had heard right. It was eleven o'clock exactly. Sunlight filtered in through the slats of her Venetian blinds, throwing a grill-like pattern of shadows on her ash-gray carpet. She could faintly hear cars driving by the apartment building outside, as well as the occasional bird singing in the trees planted around the property line.

It was morning. Almost afternoon, in fact.

Rubbing the sleep out of her bleary eyes, Devi sat up, pushing the covers off of herself. After a jaw-cracking yawn, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up, her pajamas rumpled from sleeping.

"Guh…I feel like a zombie," she muttered, blinking the last bit of sleep out of her eyes. "Don't normally sleep that soundly…"

_Glad I don't have to be at a job at a certain time anymore_, she thought, heading out of the bedroom. _I am _so _not a morning person._

She was walking through the living room, going for the kitchen, when a splash of red on the coffee table caught her eye. When she turned to look, her eyes fell upon a single red rosebud tied with a white ribbon. It was standing in a smoky-blue glass vase, looking a tad lonely in its solitude.

Derek had given it to her at the end of their date last night, and she had put it in the vase upon coming home. It was a thank-you, he had said, for such an enjoyable night. They had both had a great time, and he wanted to let her know what it meant to him.

_Last night was perfect_, she said to herself, touching the delicate bud. _Not a single thing went wrong._

A sudden, giddy urge to giggle started bubbling up inside of her, blocking her throat. Before she knew it, she was dancing around her living room, practically singing out her joy that last night had gone off without a hitch.

_Finally!_ she mentally squealed. _Finally, finally, FINALLY! I made it through a first date with nothing going wrong! HalleLUjah!_

After a moment, in the middle of a particularly vigorous twirl, she stubbed her toe on the corner of the coffee table and collapsed in a heap on the couch.

"Owww…" she whined, holding her throbbing toe. Still, she couldn't keep from giggling like a fool that she had had such a wonderful date with such a fun guy without something going horribly wrong to ruin it all. Had her luck really turned around after all? Had she been expecting a crash for no reason? At the moment, it certainly seemed possible. Maybe life really _was_ getting better for her.

A shrill shriek suddenly assaulted her ears, making her jump in surprise before realizing it was only the phone ringing. The electronic imitation-ring was not the kindest sound on one's ears.

"Hello?" she asked into the receiver.

"Hi, Devi!" Tenna's eternally cheerful voice chirped over the line. "It's me!"

"Hey there, Tenna," Devi grinned.

"You sound like you're in a good mood!" Tenna giggled.

"Oh, well, I guess I am," Devi replied, a laugh still in her voice. She hadn't felt this happy in a _long_ time. Her stubbed toe was all but forgotten now.

"So, how was last night?" Tenna asked, eager for details.

"Last night was incredible," Devi grinned again, leaning back in her seat. "I haven't had such a good time in ages."

"Nothing went wrong?" Tenna pressed. "No explosive shit? Psycho maniacs? Zombies?"

"Nope," Devi said, shaking her head. "Just me and Derek enjoying ourselves."

"EEE!" Tenna shrieked in Devi's ear, ecstatic to hear the good news. "Devi, that's _great_!!!"

"Isn't it?" Devi nodded, a slightly dreamy tone to her voice. She laughed and put a hand over her eyes. "God, it's pathetic how excited I'm getting over this. I was actually _dancing_ around my living room because _one date_ went well."

"Really?" Tenna asked, surprised. "Devi was _dancing_ around her living room?"

"Yeah…kinda embarrassing to talk about, though. I must have looked like a moron."

"Aww…you're not pathetic or a moron, Devi. You have a right to be so happy. You've been on so many crappy dates in the past, it's no _wonder_ you're so excited one finally went right."

"I guess so," Devi conceded. She still felt rather stupid for prancing around like an idiot a few moments ago. All it earned her was a hurt toe. But, like Tenna had said, she kind of had a right to celebrate. She was just glad there had been no one around to witness her fit of glee. She would have been mortified if there had been.

"What all did you two do last night?" Tenna asked, again eager for details. A grin was in her voice.

"Well, first we went to a movie," Devi explained. "Neither of us had any specific movie we wanted to see more than any others, so we drove to the nearest theater and just picked one off the marquee. We wanted to see if what we picked was really as good as the title and poster made it look. Derek said it was a good way to make the movie-going experience more interesting."

"What did you guys see?"

"_Breach_," she answered. "Y'know, the one about Robert Hanssen. The FBI agent who spied for the Soviets during the Cold War."

"Ohhh, yeah, I've heard about that one. It's supposed to be really good."

"It was really good. I don't normally go for thrillers, but I really liked it. Derek did, too."

"Good, good," Tenna nodded. "Did you guys go somewhere for dinner after that?"

"Oh, yes," Devi said. "We were both starving when we came out. Theater snacks don't do much for an empty stomach."

"Where'd you go?"

"Well, Derek knew I loved Chinese food, and he said he knew of a place that was similar enough to Chinese that he thought I'd like it, but different enough that it would be a new experience for me. He took me to Chang's, that new Mongolian grill in the south end."

"Ooh, how was it?"

"It was delicious," Devi smiled, thinking back on the just-opened restaurant. "They give you a bowl to fill up with noodles and vegetables and other things, and then you put your own sauce together from this selection of oils and juices they have set out. The chef then takes what's in your bowl and throws it on the grill, where he adds whatever meat you want to it. Once it's done, you get it on a plate with steamed rice. Making the meal is just as enjoyable as eating it."

"Cool!" Tenna giggled. "I'll have to try that sometime!"

"_Hey, Tenna, you ready to go?_" another woman's voice suddenly asked from somewhere in the background.

"Who's that?" Devi wondered aloud.

"Oop!" Tenna squeaked. "That's my cousin, Jaynie. She just flew in from Seattle yesterday, and I'm taking her sightseeing downtown today."

"Oh, yeah, you told me yesterday that she was visiting," Devi nodded.

"I gotta go!" Tenna said with a tinge of guilt in her voice. "I'm so sorry to cut you off when you're telling me about your date!"

"Oh, don't worry, Tenna," Devi reassured her. "Derek and I just sat around and talked after dinner, anyway. I don't want to bore you with a recap. Go have fun with Jaynie."

"All right. I'll see you later, Devi!" Tenna's voice was again chipper. It didn't take much to cheer that woman up.

Devi chuckled as she hung up. She had never met Jaynie, so she didn't know how similar or different she was from Tenna. The idea of _two_ such women together was a bit frightening, but the image of Tenna's polar opposite putting up with the bouncy girl was rather amusing.

_You must sound like a whole new person, Devi_, she thought, a thoughtful smile settling on her lips. _I _feel _like a whole new person, in fact. Maybe all my worrying about an upcoming disaster was all for nothing._ She paused for a moment before she allowed herself to acknowledge her next thought. _I ran into Nny yesterday, but I walked away unscathed. It was just a minor snag in an otherwise awesome day._

_chng_…

She looked up at the clock on the wall. It had just chimed eleven-thirty. Giving a sigh, she looked down at the pieces of paper scattered on the coffee table. They were mostly sketches of concepts she was working on developing for her current job with Doppelganger. Some were just in their beginning stages, while others had almost gotten to the point where she was ready to put them on canvas.

"Well," she muttered, standing up and stretching mightily, "may as well eat, get dressed, and then get to work."

* * *

"Hmmm…"

Devi was sprawled out on her bed, papers scattered all over the purple comforter. Her large sketchpad was lying open next her as she thumbed through the manuscript for the novel she was in the process of illustrating. She had been trying all day to pin down a look for the heroine, but nothing she had tried seemed to work. She had thought skimming through parts of the manuscript would help, but she hadn't had much luck so far.

The book was a high fantasy novel set in some imaginary land of magic and mystery. It was the first in a proposed series of four, and Devi had been told that whether the series was continued or if just the first book was put out would be decided based on how well the first book was received by the public. If the series was going to be published in full, they wanted Devi to do the artwork for the other three books as well. She had no objections to that.

Truth be told, she didn't normally read high fantasy. She had read a few, yes, but mostly she gravitated toward science fiction instead. She liked aliens and black holes better than elves and royal palaces. The reason she was illustrating a high fantasy novel was because she wanted to try something new. Most of the books she had illustrated for Doppelganger so far had been sci-fi, and she wanted an opportunity to diversify her work some. She had asked if there was any chance she could take on a new kind of project, and they had given her the one she was currently working on.

The book itself was passable. It certainly wasn't the best fantasy she had ever read, but it was by far not the worst, either. She suspected it would be moderately well-received by the fantasy crowd. Or who knows? It might be the next runaway hit. Either way, she was pretty sure all four books in the series would end up being published.

_At least they didn't give me some laundry list of clichés_, she thought with a snort. She had come across too many fantasy novels that sounded exactly the same. It was like the genre had fallen into a rut that only a few authors had the creativity to climb out of and produce something unique and interesting. She was happy Doppelganger had given her a story that had an element of originality to it.

With an almost wistful sigh, she looked out the window. She hadn't closed her blinds yet, and she could see stars twinkling in the clear black sky.

"Maybe I should just call it quits for tonight," she muttered to herself. "It's one in the morning, and I'm not getting anywhere with this girl's design."

Just as she was sitting up to gather the papers on her bed together, the phone out in the living room rang. As it was late at night, the absence of background noise made the grating sound seem even louder than usual.

"I have _got_ to get a new phone," she sighed as she walked out to it. "I really hate the ring on this one."

"Hey there, Devi," a man's voice said when she answered. "I was hoping you were still up."

"Hi, Derek," Devi smiled. "I didn't think it would be you. When I get phone calls this late, it's usually Tenna."

"Yeah, sorry about calling so late," Derek apologized. "I got held over at work for a while, but I didn't realize how long until I was able to go home."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Devi shrugged, waving a hand. "I usually don't go to bed until three or four, anyway."

"Right, right," Derek said. "You told me that before, I think."

"I believe I did. So, what's on your mind?"

"I wanted to thank you for the date last night," Derek explained. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time."

"Me neither," Devi grinned. "I had a great time."

"Good!" Derek said, sounding gratified to hear it. "In that case, I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me again this coming Wednesday."

"This Wednesday?" Devi repeated.

"Yeah. I have Wednesday off and don't go into work on Thursday until the afternoon, so if it works for you, it'd be a good night for another date."

"All right," Devi agreed, smiling again. "Where do you want to go?"

"I was thinking down to this new dance-club-slash-restaurant in the middle of downtown," Derek suggested. "They're supposed to have good DJs and really good food. What do you think?"

"Sounds great," Devi said. "You've got a date, mister."

Derek laughed. "Awesome. I'll pick you up at the same time as before, okay?"

"Got it," Devi nodded. "I'll see you then."

"All right," Derek said. "Anyway, I have a few things to take care of before going to bed, so I guess I'll talk to you Wednesday, if not before."

"All right, then. See you later, Derek."

As she hung up, Devi felt another urge to laugh starting to boil up in her chest. It was not as strong as the one several hours before, however, so she managed to keep it to a girlish giggle. It had been _ages_ since she had been on a second date. The thought of going on one with a guy like Derek seemed almost too good to be true.

Eagerly, she snatched up the phone again and punched in a familiar number.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered.

"Hi, Tenna!" Devi grinned into the receiver. "Guess what?"

* * *

_"Jeez…it sure is dark in here…"_

_Devi felt a shiver pass through her as even her quiet voice echoed in the vast space around her. She was walking forward, but didn't know where she was going. She couldn't even _see _where she was going, in fact. Everything around her was black, as if all the light had been sucked out of the world. The heels of her boots clicked sharply on the smooth—marble?—floor, every sound bouncing back to her after a second, no matter how small it was. She couldn't even see the floor she was walking on, though she could see her feet quite clearly._

_She had no idea where she was, how she got here, or where she was going, but for some reason, those facts didn't seem to bother her. All she was concerned about was getting somewhere. Or maybe she was searching for something. What, or who, would she be searching for, though? She wasn't sure about even that._

"_Shit, this is starting to freak me out," she said, looking to either side. "I don't like this at _all_."_

"_You don't like it here?" a voice suddenly asked from close in front of her. "Neither do I."_

_Devi bit back a screech of surprise, whipping her eyes back to the fore. Where there had been absolutely nothing a few seconds before, there now knelt a person only a few feet away from her. They had materialized instantly while her gaze had been turned elsewhere._

"_Y-you…!" she sputtered, fear and anger warring with her shock when she recognized who it was. She backed up a few steps. Or rather, she tried to. The distance between her and the kneeling man didn't increase even an inch. She couldn't move from her spot at all. Panic started rising in her chest at this realization._

"_Hello, Devi," Johnny C. said, his tone almost pleasant. He was dressed all in black, almost disappearing into the void around them. His overly-large eyes were focused on her, the pupils shrunken to pinpricks. It was the same disturbing look he had given her when he had tried to kill her so many months before, and yet, this time, there was sadness in his eyes as well. He looked like someone who had been through a brutal war, rendered numb to the horrors he had witnessed over and over again. That bleak, soulless look frightened her more than any expression ever had before._

"_Johnny…?!" Devi managed to say, staring open-mouthed at him. "What are you doing here?! What are you…what are you…what are you _doing_?!"_

"_Oh…nothing…" Johnny replied._

_In truth, he was doing anything _but _nothing. Devi's first observation upon recognizing him was that he was covered from head to toe in red, sticky blood. At first, she had assumed it was from his latest batch of unfortunate victims, but then she realized that it was actually his _own _blood dripping from his hair and soaking into his clothes. A pool of the sticky stuff was spreading out around him, but he seemed to not even notice it. Indeed, he seemed content to _add _to the gory rivers feeding the growing lake._

_He was pulling a long, flexible metal wire from his left forearm. The wire was wrapped around his limb so tightly that it was cutting into his skin, causing a long, continuous gash to wrap around his arm. Similar gashes wound around his other arm, his legs, his neck, his torso…he was bleeding from every inch of his body, it seemed. Coils of bloody wire lay on the ground around him, glistening sickly even in this lightless void. Johnny showed no sign of pain, even though the wire he was extracting from his arm seemed to be coming from so deep in that it had to be wrapped around the bones themselves._

"_Nny, what…what the—" Devi's sputtering question was cut off as a drop of liquid fell on her nose. She touched the wet spot, and when she pulled her hand back again, she saw blood running down her fingers. Horrified, she looked up and saw more wires hanging from the invisible ceiling. Chunks of what looked like skin and hair were stuck on the ends of some of them. She looked back at Johnny, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake her. Patches of skin were missing from his scalp and face. The hanging wires must have been anchored to those spots before Johnny had ripped them violently away, leaving some of himself behind in the process._

"_Last one," Johnny murmured to himself, pulling the end of the wire from his wrist. Blood spurted briefly from the spot where the wire had fully departed from his flesh, though he didn't seem notice or care._

"_What the _hell _is going on?!"_ _Devi managed to scream, again trying fruitlessly to back away. Another wave of panic washed through her as she watched him stand, terrified that he would come closer. She wanted desperately to run, but found herself unable to move. She was frozen in place, her body gone rigid in fear._

"_Don't you see?" Johnny asked, a tired, worn tone to his voice. "I'm free. After so many years of torture, so many years of pain, I'm free. Damaged…but free."_

"_What do you mean, 'free'?" Devi asked, her voice trembling. "Free from what?"_

_To her horror, Johnny took a step toward her, his thin, bony hand reaching out to touch her. "I want to see you again, Devi. I've missed you so much…"_

"_S-stay away!"_ _Devi shrieked, trying to scramble back from him. "Don't touch me, you sick fuck!!!"_

"_Devi…"_

"DON'T TOUCH MEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Devi fairly howled, bolting upright in bed. Without thinking, she swung her right fist out, fending off the bloody horror that was about to touch her. The force of her swing was so great that, when her fist passed through empty air, she was thrown off balance. She had to grab onto her nightstand to keep from toppling off the bed.

She was panting violently, dizzy and shaking from the adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"A…a dream…?" she managed to gasp after several minutes. She was sweating, her eyes so wide that they would have popped out of their sockets if they had gone any wider. Her heart was pounding hard against her ribcage, threatening to break right through her chest and into the open air.

She was afraid. Deathly, profoundly afraid. She couldn't remember a time when she had been more frightened.

"It was…i-it was only a dream…" she finally stammered, her trembling worsening. "Johnny…oh, God…_Nny_!" Hot tears suddenly burst forth, streaming down her face and dripping off her chin to the bedspread, wrenching sobs wracking her entire body. She bit a knuckle in an effort to suppress them, but all she succeeded in doing was coming dangerously close to drawing blood.

_I'm free. After so many years of torture, so many years of pain, I'm free. Damaged…but free._

Free? What could he mean by that? Free from what? From who? He couldn't _possibly_ mean that he was free from the…the _thing_…that had been feeding off of him for years…could he?

"I don't care!" she nearly wailed, struggling to get her rampant emotions back under control. "I don't care, I don't care, _I_ _don't care_! It's just a dream! Dreams mean nothing! He's still insane, still a monster, still a _freak_!"

_But...what if?_ she tentatively asked herself, so quiet that she could barely hear this thought. _What if he really was—?_

"God _DAMN IT_!!!" she shrieked, cutting off her thoughts. She slammed her fist against the nightstand, pain exploding up her arm on impact. The sudden agony jolted her out of her crying fit, and she cradled her injured hand to her chest, her sobs dissipating until they were little more than labored breaths. Tension drained out of her body like water, making her feel like she was melting, ready to collapse into a puddle and slowly absorb into her sheets.

"Damn it," she swore again, her voice barely above a thin whisper. "_I hate you, Johnny C…!_"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Aaaaack…I'm not terribly happy with this chapter. We're in a part of the story that my Muse had only vaguely alluded to beforehand, so I was making it up as I wrote it. I actually like the third scene, but the first two…gah. I'm sorry for giving you guys such a mediocre chapter, especially after making you wait an extra week to get it. Once again, I've put out a chapter that's predominantly dialogue, and I apologize for that. I can only hope you guys don't completely hate it. Please don't hurt me.

I really hope I didn't make Devi too cheerful. I mean, I wanted to write her noticeably different than how we usually see her in JV's comics, because things are turning around for her. Her life is finally going the way she wants it to. I just hope I didn't overdo it. Did I or didn't I? I'm also worried I made her too hysterical in the last scene, but I wanted to convey how out-of-control her emotions were. Please tell me how well (or how badly) you think I did. I always worry about if I'm staying in character or not.

Now, to explain the chapter title. In _The Sandman_, there is Dream of the Endless. He is the King of Dreams, basically a personification of the subconscious mind. He often speaks to people, either directly or indirectly, through the dreams he gives them. Sometimes dreams are just random things, sometimes they have meaning. Devi's dream in this chapter has obvious meaning to those familiar with Nny's personal prison and his subsequent release from that prison. I'm not saying that the dream is a message from Morpheus, as this story isn't meant to be a crossover, but the Sandman has been a personification of sleep and dreams for ages. Any dream can be construed as this entity "speaking" to you in your sleep, and that's what the chapter title is meant to convey. I hope you don't think it's too farfetched a connection. I just wanted to reference Gaiman's masterpiece somewhere, and I saw an opportunity to do so. Sue me if you think it's dumb.

So, how did you all like this chapter? Even if you dislike it, please let me know what you think. If your reaction's negative, though, please be nice. I like criticism to be constructive, not destructive. Thanks again to those who have taken the time to review this story so far, and thanks to everyone for putting up with my lateness. I hope it doesn't happen again.

See you all next time!


	6. Hey There, Neighbor!

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

GAH! This chapter's late, too! I'm sorry! I really am! It's just that life seems to keep throwing curveballs at me every chance it gets. Whenever I want to write, I don't have the opportunity to, and whenever I have the opportunity to write, I have no motivation to. First my aunt and cousin flew in from Kansas for ten days, and though I didn't begrudge their presence at all, it did make my days a little too busy to do any writing. Then, I was having mood problems thanks to a rush of monthly hormones combined with fluctuating serotonin levels in my brain (which I have since stabilized, thank goodness). Now, my cat's in the hospital and might have liver cancer. Life has kinda sucked lately.

Anyway, big thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, GuesssWho, JuleWooster, Invader Sideos, Sheamaru, Mrs. Terwilliger, and Miscellaneous Penguin for reviewing chapter five! I thought it was rather sub-par for me, but I'm glad you guys liked it. I'll really try to get back on schedule after this. In the meantime, please be patient with me.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Six: Hey There, Neighbor!**

Clarissa woke up to the sound of metal striking metal.

Slowly and with great effort, she opened her eyes. They felt gritty and sticky, dried blood and tears crusting her eyelashes. Her vision was blurry, and for a moment all she could see was black. Dripping water could be heard from somewhere nearby, as well as that slow, rhythmic clanging noise that had woken her up.

She tried to move. All she got was a dull, burning pain spreading throughout her body. Everything hurt. It was like someone had taken sandpaper to her nerve endings.

_Oh yeah_, she thought with a groan, tasting her own blood on her tongue, _I'm still here._

A low, brief sound reached her ears, making her start. It sounded like a growl, the guttural sound emanating from deep in the throat of some angered beast. The clanging got louder, and now she realized it was coming from off to her left. Curiosity getting the better of her, she strained to see what was making the racket. She couldn't turn her head in its confines, but was just able to see a shape in the darkness out of the corner of her eye.

_Him._

A tall, thin man was visible a short distance away. He was sitting on the floor, turned sideways to her, hunched over his drawn-up knees and hanging his head low. In the hand closest to her, he held what looked like a hatchet, or perhaps a large-headed hammer. Slowly, as if he weren't even aware his arm was moving, he would periodically raise the thing and smash it down onto the metal floor, producing the metallic sound that had jolted her awake. He seemed trapped in his thoughts, and judging by the look of intensity upon his face, they weren't very good thoughts. Something was badly bothering this man.

Clarissa didn't care about all that, however. All she cared about was that this man was the same skinny freak who had assaulted her in the park on her walk home from work almost a week ago, hitting her sharply on the head and dragging her to…to…wherever this place was. She had no idea where he had brought her, but the rank smell of death permeating the air was enough to make her hair stand on end. And that wasn't even considering the position she was in at the moment.

She was strapped down on the strangest contraption she had ever seen. It seemed to be a cross between a dentist's chair and one of those coin-operated mechanical rodeo bulls you sometimes found in cowboy-themed taverns. She was lying on her front, her arms and legs hanging over the sides of the thing, held in place by metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. A leather strap was wrapped tightly around the top of her head, holding it still between the two sides of an evil-looking metal frame. Another strap was wound around her neck, further restricting her movement.

Initially, she had been terrified that her captor planned to rape her, as she was being held down in a very vulnerable position. He, however, did no such thing. He opted to torture her instead.

First, he had ripped out her fingernails and toenails with what looked like a surgical clamp. Without a word, and with a look of frightening apathy on his face, he had squeezed the clamp shut around each nail and pulled them from her fingers and toes with agonizing slowness. She had screamed and cursed at him until her throat bled, but he didn't even seem to hear her. All twenty nails he had dispassionately uprooted, dropping them to the floor without a second look. They were still scattered around her, brown with dried blood. She tried not to look at them.

And then, still without making a sound, he had left.

Over the next several days, he had periodically returned, usually bringing more pain with him. Sometimes he burned her with heated pieces of metal; sometimes he cut her with knives or flayed some of her skin off; and sometimes he twisted an arm or a leg until it was on the verge of breaking, strained almost beyond its limit. He was surprisingly strong for someone so thin, as if his frail appearance was merely a ruse being put forward by some malevolent, bloodthirsty demon. His behavior was certainly demonic, that's for sure. Sometimes he was eerily silent as he assailed her, as when he had pulled out her nails, while other times he would be screaming bloody murder, his shrill words so run together that she couldn't even understand him.

She didn't know why she was here. She thought she remembered him mumbling something about "bitchy friends" and "laughing at people different than them", but she couldn't remember seeing him in her life. Sure, she and her friends sometimes made fun of odd-looking people, and maybe this man had been one of them, but they were all just joking. It wasn't anything to get mad about, much less torture her for it.

The word _BITCH_ had been carved into her forehead yesterday, temporarily blinding her as blood ran down into her eyes. She could feel the cuts throbbing dully with her pulse. The letter "B" was starting to burn and itch. An infection must be setting in.

"No…"

Clarissa jolted in surprise. The man on the floor had suddenly spoken, his voice low and hoarse as if he had been screaming or crying not too long ago. He had stopped banging the thing in his hand on the floor, and was now clutching his head, his shoulders shaking. He seemed to have a massive headache.

"Shut up!" he hissed, his fingers digging into his hair and pulling hard. He was now rocking back and forth, as if tormented from within. It was a very unsettling sight.

_What's _wrong _with this guy?!_ she thought nervously, fearing that another bout of torture was close at hand.

"_Stop following me around!!!_" he shrieked, lunging to his feet. "You talk enough as it is when I'm in there with you! I don't want to hear you anywhere else!" He clutched at his head again, his whole body starting to move in an odd, writhing dance. His eyes were squeezed shut and his teeth were clenched, giving him a tormented, agonized look. "Get out of my head, _damn you_!!!"

He stumbled toward her, almost colliding with the framework of her weird prison. She yelped reflexively. The thing he had been hitting against the floor, which she now saw was indeed a hatchet, was still in his hand, and it swung dangerously close to her face as he fought to keep his balance. He finally did fall against her, his back leaning against her side. His protruding vertebrae dug into her ribs, and she could feel him trembling.

"Stop talking about her!" he sobbed. "Just fucking _stop_ it! You're _killing_ me!"

_Who is he talking to?_ she couldn't help but wonder, despite the fear coursing through her veins. _Who is this "her"?_

"God damn it…" he moaned after several minutes of disjointed whines and garbled protests. "Why can't I _ever_ get some _peace_?!" With the word _peace_, he unconsciously raised the hatchet above his head and brought it down hard a second later. Unfortunately for the woman tied up behind him, there was nothing in the blade's path to interrupt the deadly swing except…

Clarissa felt like she had been clubbed in the side of the head. There was a sudden heaviness weighing the left side of her head down, and a warm liquid was trickling down her cheek and off the point of her chin.

"Oh," the man said, turning to look at her. "Oops."

_There's an axe in my head_, she thought hazily. Her vision was quickly fading, black spots appearing before her eyes. Sounds seemed tinnier, and a coldness deeper than she had ever felt before was spreading from the very core of her body. _So…this is it…_

The last thing she saw was the blurry outline of her captor walking away from her, his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Don't have a use for her, anyway," she heard him mutter to himself as he left.

And then everything went black.

* * *

Johnny scowled as he walked along the dark, dusty tunnel. His thoughts were as black as his expression, and he really wasn't paying much attention to where he was going. Bones occasionally crunched under his feet, turning to dust under the hard industrial rubber of his soles.

_God damn that _fucking _burger boy_, he thought testily, clenching his fists. _As if hearing him endlessly flapping his jaws when we're in the same room together isn't enough. Now he's following me all over the house!_

Reverend Meat had barely shut up since Johnny's run-in with Devi downtown. He seemed more determined than ever to get Johnny to realize what he claimed was the serial killer's lingering affection for the avid artist. At first, Johnny had been able to escape his nonstop prattling by exiting his bedroom for another part of the house. Now, however, to his great annoyance, the grating voice was echoing in his mind no matter where in the house he was. Even in the deepest levels of the underground, he could hear it. It seemed the only way to escape it now was to leave the building entirely. He was afraid that even that wouldn't work for very long.

Right now, Meat was staying blessedly silent, but that didn't stop Johnny's thoughts from going through every bloody way to die he wished he could inflict upon the infuriating burger boy. Unfortunately, there's not much you can do to a ceramic statue other than shatter it. Ceramic didn't bleed, and it couldn't feel pain. And even if Johnny did destroy the squat little figure, it would do nothing to hinder the voice currently plaguing him. The voice was coming from inside his own head. The Bub's Burger Boy statue it seemed to possess was merely a tangible object for Johnny to focus his attention on when it spoke to him. It was by no means confined to its "home", and could speak to Johnny wherever and whenever it pleased. The thought of that was enough to make him grind his teeth together in frustration. His mind was _his_ mind. He didn't like having no control over parts of it.

He grimaced as he remembered what he had said a little while earlier. "_You're killing me." Jesus. Why the fuck did I say _that He was afraid Meat would take that as a signal to step up his constant verbal assaults, thinking he was close to breaking Johnny's resolve.

_Was_ he close to breaking Johnny's resolve? If he could reduce the man to tears like he had a short while ago, did that mean Johnny was close to giving in?

_Fuck no_, Johnny thought angrily. _I'll chop my own eyes out before I give in to that asshole._

It was then that Johnny suddenly pulled up short. He was about to walk straight into a cement wall.

_What the…? Where am I?_ He looked up. _Oh._

The dim outline of a trapdoor was visible about ten feet above his head. A wooden ladder led up to it, looking rotten enough to break under even Johnny's minimal weight. It was the trapdoor that connected this underground tunnel to the basement of the house next door, and Johnny remembered using it once several months ago, before he had left on his "holiday". Somewhere up there, little Todd Casil was in his bed, sleeping. Well…trying to sleep, at any rate.

_I haven't visited Squee since before I left_, he thought, staring up at the trapdoor. _I guess now is as good a time as any, now that I'm here._ Grasping the ladder with his bony hands, he quickly ascended the rickety-looking contraption. For a moment, he pressed his ear to the underside of the door, listening for any signs of movement on the other side. It wouldn't do for one of Todd's parents to see him as he came to visit their neglected son. Inattentive parents they may be, but they wouldn't be pleased to find an intruder coming into their home from where there should be solid dirt underneath the house.

Hearing nothing, Johnny pushed upward on the door, slowly easing it open. Cautiously, he pulled himself up into a cold, dark basement. The lights were off and the door up the steps to Johnny's right was closed. Nobody was in here, and hadn't been in here for a while. Glad his entrance had gone undetected, Johnny carefully closed the trapdoor and made his way up the cement staircase. He listened carefully through the door leading to the rest of the house, and when he heard nothing on the other side, he quietly slipped through and into the dim hallway.

Stealing quietly through the house, Johnny kept his ears open for any noises. Fortunately, it seemed everyone was in bed. The house was dark and silent, and he heard nothing to indicate his presence was about to be found out. In less than a minute, he had made it up to the second floor and found himself standing right outside Todd's bedroom door. It stood ajar, like he remembered. Carefully, he pushed it further open.

"Squee!" he whispered. "Hey! Psst! Squeegee! It's me!"

A little head suddenly popped up, wide eyes fearfully searching the darkness for whatever had woken him up. When the little boy's gaze fell upon the man standing in his doorway, his eyes widened even further. He looked ready to bolt any second.

"Hey there!" Johnny smiled, coming into the room. "It's been a while since I've seen you! Damn, how much have you grown since then?"

"M-M-Mr. Neighbor Man?" the boy stammered, clutching at his raggedy old teddy bear. "Y-you've come back?"

"Yeah," Johnny replied, now standing next to the bed. "And how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Nny."

"Um…" Todd looked away, as if uncomfortable with calling him by that name. Johnny was about to ask what was wrong, but he refrained.

"I'm not going to stay long," Johnny said instead, sitting down at the foot of the bed. "I just wanted to say hi now that I've come back."

"I thought you moved away." There was a flicker of disappointment mixed with dread in Todd's eyes, but Johnny didn't see it. The boy couldn't have possibly missed the screams once again coming from the rundown house next door, so he shouldn't have been surprised. He had the air of someone who had been in denial about something only to discover that it was irrefutably true. Johnny C. had indeed returned to the neighborhood.

The man waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. I just needed to get away for a while. Change of scenery to refresh my mind, y'know? I'm back, though. Can't say I really missed home, but I felt I had to return sooner or later."

"Where did you go?" Todd asked, the child's curiosity getting the better of him. It was likely he didn't really want to know, but he asked anyway.

"Nowhere, really," Johnny shrugged. "It didn't matter where I was going. I just…went. As long as I was getting away, I didn't care where I ended up."

"Oh," was all Todd said in response, sounding relieved to get such a nonspecific answer. His tiny voice, however, was nearly drowned out by a sudden growl coming from his stomach. An embarrassed blush immediately stained his cheeks, and he looked down, nervous.

"Jeez, Squee, what was that?" Johnny asked, a look of concern on his face. "You sound like you haven't eaten in days."

"Um…well…" the boy muttered, looking away. This dubious reaction caused Johnny's expression to darken.

"Your parents _do_ feed you, don't they?" he asked, a hint of an edge to his voice.

"Daddy doesn't cook much," Todd answered, looking up again, "and Mommy sometimes…forgets. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

Johnny sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, he _so_ wanted to shove a couple of knives up their asses for being such shitty parents. And yet, at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to deprive Todd of his mother and father, as sub-standard as they were. Perhaps it stemmed from the fact that Johnny couldn't even _remember_ his own folks, and as mind-boggling as it sounded, Todd _did_ seem to care about his parents somewhat, despite the complete lack of care they gave him. Whatever the reason, Johnny doubted that Mr. and Mrs. Casil would be joining his long list of victims anytime soon.

"Wait here," he said, standing up. Todd gave him a questioning look, but he didn't explain himself, instead exiting the room and making his way back down to the first floor.

_Jesus Christ_, he thought, his teeth clenched. _Can't even _feed _their own son! Just what the fuck is so important in their lives that they can't find the time to care for their little boy?!_ He entered the kitchen with a sigh, shaking his head. Getting worked up like this wouldn't get him anywhere. _Gotta get him something to eat._ _I guess a sandwich will do for now._

He busied himself finding everything he needed. A butter knife he found in one of the kitchen drawers, the bread in a wooden breadbox on the counter. He discovered a half-empty tub of peanut butter in one of the cupboards and a just-opened jar of strawberry jam in the fridge. It wasn't hard gathering what he needed, and he had a sandwich put together fairly quickly. Snagging a napkin from on top of the breadbox, he returned to Todd's room with the food.

"Here you go," he said, handing it to the boy. "It isn't much, but it's better than nothing."

"Um…thanks," Todd said after a moment, looking both puzzled and grateful. A tiny smile settled on his face, and Johnny couldn't help but smile back. Todd really was a cute kid. Smart, too. It was a shame his parents were so unsupportive. It would be much harder for Todd to realize his full potential in such a hostile environment.

"You should learn how to feed yourself, if your parents won't bother with it," Johnny said, sitting back down as Todd began nibbling on the sandwich. "A growing boy shouldn't ever go without proper nutrition." In the back of his mind, he realized how hypocritical that sounded. He suspected he himself hadn't been a very adequate eater as a child, as he knew he had been alarmingly thin all his life. Todd didn't need to follow his example, however.

"I sometimes manage to get cookies or chips or something like that if Mommy forgets to feed me," Todd said between bites. "We don't have anything like that right now, though. I couldn't find anything ready to eat, and I'm too small to use the oven. I can't reach the microwave, either."

"I'm sorry," Johnny said after a pause. He really didn't know what else to say. He had the brief urge to tell Todd to come to him if he needed food, but it wasn't like he had much in his kitchen, either. He sometimes went days without eating, and often neglected to keep even basic foodstuffs in his cupboards. Todd wouldn't find anything over at Johnny's place that he wouldn't find at home.

"It's okay," Todd shrugged. "I'm doing all right."

_I wish I could get you out of here, Squee_, Johnny thought, letting the boy eat in silence. _But my house is no place for a little kid, and I'm not fit to be a father. I'm too fucked up to raise a child. As bad as you have it here, you're better off with your parents than with me._ He sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest. _Good intentions just aren't enough when a child is involved._

"Um…Mr. Neigh—Mr. Nny?" Todd ventured timidly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm all right," Johnny assured him, putting on a fake smile. "I'm just…thinking about stuff."

"Oh…okay," Todd said, looking down at the napkin. The sandwich was gone, a scattering of crumbs left behind.

"Feeling better now?" Johnny asked. "Not so hungry anymore?"

"Yeah," Todd nodded, looking up again and managing a shy smile. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Johnny said, his smile genuine this time. Standing up, he took the napkin from Todd, wadded it up, and tossed it into the trash can in the corner. "I think I should get going now, Squee. I've kept you awake long enough."

"Okay," Todd replied, again nodding slowly.

"I'll come back to visit whenever I can," Johnny continued. "You can come over and see me if you ever need someone to talk to. Okay?"

"Okay," the boy said again. There was anxiety in his eyes at that suggestion, yet it wasn't quite as sharp as may have been expected.

"See you later, Squee," Johnny said, backing out the door into the hallway. "Take care."

"Bye-bye, Mr. Neighbor—uh, Mr. Nny."

_Cute kid_, Johnny thought as he made his way back down to the basement. _Shame he has such rotten parents._

_You think you could do any better?_ a voice suddenly sneered in his head. _A fucked-up sociopath like you?_ _You of all people have no right to call others rotten, Nny, no matter how bad they are._

"_Fuck_!" he hissed, sudden rage flaring up as that hated voice invaded his thoughts once more. "When are you going to leave me the hell alone?!"

Reverend Meat simply laughed, as if he found amusement in Johnny's anger. He probably did, in fact. _When are you going to stop fighting your inborn nature and embrace your existence as a perfectly flawed human being?_

"Fuck off," Johnny snapped, prying open the trapdoor in the basement floor and dropping back into the underground tunnel. "_I'll_ be the one to decide what I was born to be."

_We'll see, Nny_, Meat replied, smugness underlining his words. _We'll see._

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, this chapter doesn't contribute much to the story's plot, but I meant it to be that way. A little deviation from the main storyline can be a good thing, I think. It keeps things from moving too quickly, and gives the reader a little something extra to chew upon. Plus, I wanted an excuse to stick Squee in somewhere. He's just _so_ cute, and I couldn't resist including him in some way. I don't know if he'll show up again, as I can't find a way to fit him into the main storyline, but he might pop up again once or twice. If he does, he does; if he doesn't, he doesn't. We'll just have to wait and see.

I think this chapter turned out better than I expected it to. I kinda BS'ed my way through the first scene, and made up the second scene on the fly. I hope you guys like it. After (once again) making you wait an extra week for this chapter, I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with it. I'm so sorry I was late getting a chapter up twice in a row. Unless some catastrophe comes up, I plan to have chapter seven out on schedule. Keep your fingers crossed, and thank you so much for being so patient with me.

I made Reverend Meat speak in italics instead of quotes in this chapter because he and Nny are in separate places. Even though the voice is always coming from within his own head, when Nny's in his bedroom with the statue, he hears the voice like it's coming from the burger boy. When he's anywhere else, he just hears it echoing throughout his skull. It's like telepathy, in a sense.

Anyway, did this chapter come out well? Please let me know what you think. I'd love to hear from you guys. Again, I'm sorry for the delay, and I'll do my best to get the next chapter up in two weeks like I'm supposed to.

Bye-bye, all!


	7. The Dangers of Drinking

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Much thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, Invader Sideos, GuesssWho, Sheamaru, HappilyInsaneSuicide, JuleWooster, Miscellaneous Penguin, thesupernugget, and kalilamae for reviewing chapter six! I'm glad you guys all liked the little break from the main story. I was afraid it would seem pointless, but I'm happy you guys thought otherwise.

Oh! I found an amazing NnyxDevi vid on YouTube a while back, and I keep forgetting to share it with you guys! It's called "Saving Nny", posted by oOwhitelilyOo. It has some incredible fanart in it, and the song fits the couple very well. I loved the song before, and now it always makes me think of Nny and Devi. Go watch it! If you can't find it, I can give you the URL. Just drop me an email and I'll give it to you.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Seven: The Dangers of Drinking**

"So many stars out tonight…"

Johnny was lying on his back on the roof of his house, staring up at the clear night sky. The moon was full, making it especially bright out, and millions of stars twinkled silently in the blackness above him. Faintly, he could hear the roar of the freeways snaking through the city, but he was able to ignore it. The night was serene, calming…

A rare, untainted smile stretched his lips. He loved the stars. So steady and tranquil in their beauty, it was one of the few parts of the world he could admire without the sullying thoughts of ugly flaws festering underneath the surface, waiting to reveal themselves when you least expect it. The bright points of light burning out in the cold vacuum of space were a source of contentment for him. He could lie out here all night and watch them.

_You sometimes did_, a voice suddenly said in his mind, making him grimace. _You watched the sky all night long quite often, in fact. The stars were a source of inspiration for you. The ideas for your best and favorite paintings came to you while stargazing, you know._

"No, I don't know," he growled back. "You know I don't remember anything from when I could paint."

_For now_, Reverend Meat replied. _You may remember someday._

"Just shut up," Johnny snapped sullenly. "Can't you go _one night_ without ruining my mood?"

Meat was quiet for a moment, making Johnny hope that maybe he would listen to him for once. When the burger boy finally did speak, what he said caught Johnny by surprise.

_Maybe you're right, Nny. I guess I have been a bit hard on you lately._

"What do you mean?" Johnny asked after a moment of confused silence.

_Exactly what _you _mean._ _Everything I've said lately was to badger you into seeing things my way. Maybe you need a break._

"Damn right, I do," Johnny snorted. After another short silence, "Hey, wait a minute. Just what are you trying to pull?"

_So suspicious_, Meat chided. _Haven't you ever heard the adage "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth"?_

"Yeah, but it's not like you to give a concession like this."

_We all have our out-of-character moments. I guess you could say I'm having one right now._

"Hmm…" was all Johnny said in return.

_Why don't you go into town tonight?_ Meat continued. _Maybe you'll find something to amuse you._

Johnny sat up, a pained look flashing through his eyes. "You sound just like Mr. Eff. He always told me to do stuff like that."

_Oh, I assure you, I'm nothing like that piece of shit. I have no intention to use you for my own benefit. I simply want you to give in to your natural self._

He drew his knees up to his chest. "You sound like you know what's going to happen if I go."

_Hardly._ _I'm an extension of your subconscious, not some all-knowing being from the Otherworld. You're just not finding anything to stimulate yourself around here. You should go someplace else and fix that._

"I don't _want_ to be stimulated. And didn't you just say you thought you were being too hard on me lately? You're doing the same thing you've always done right now."

_Touché._ _Well then, Nny, let's make a compromise. I'll shut up for the time being, and you do as I ask tonight. Go downtown and experience the world a little. Maybe you'll be surprised by what you find._

Johnny was silent for a long while, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees. Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, he _was_ feeling a bit…hollow. All he had to occupy him was his thoughts. The corpses and half-dead sacks of meat in his basement weren't any good for keeping him company, and that infuriating little statue on his dresser was a lousy companion. Maybe he _should_ go downtown tonight, if only to take a walk through the streets. He may not talk to or even look at anybody, but at least there would be background noise to distract him.

"Fine, I'll go," he finally muttered, "but only to get away from you." In truth, he knew he was only saying that to make it seem like he was agreeing on his own terms. He was aware that it was a rather pathetic addendum to his statement, and didn't doubt that Meat knew, too.

Meat didn't say anything in response, however. Johnny got the impression of a mental shrug, but nothing else. Apparently, the burger boy meant to keep his half of the bargain.

_Thank God_, Johnny said to himself, then scowled slightly. Whenever that phrase crossed his mind, a frown creased his forehead for an instant. The God he had met not too long ago hadn't done a fucking _thing_ since creating the Universe billions of years ago. That fat little lawn gnome didn't have anything to do with Meat's compliance with his own suggestion, nor with anything else that happened. It was really quite vexing. _Ah well_, Johnny thought as he stood up. _No helping that, I guess._

Going over to the edge of the roof, he knelt down, gripped the edge of the plywood, and swung himself down and through his bedroom window. Landing in a crouch, he looked over toward his dresser. Reverend Meat stood there, holding up his giant hamburger as always, still remaining silent.

_Better enjoy it while I can_, Johnny thought, pulling on his boots and fastening the silver buckles. _It's only a matter of time before he starts up again._ Slipping on his long black coat, he pocketed his car keys and silently left the room. He didn't spare the statue another glance as he went.

Within moments, he was gone.

* * *

The streets were relatively quiet as he made his way down the sidewalk. There were plenty of cars and pedestrians around, but it was more subdued than most other nights he had come downtown. It was odd, but not unwelcome to him.

_What is tonight?_ he thought. _Wednesday?_ _No wonder, then. Not much happening on a Wednesday night. People don't usually go out for a good time until the weekend._ He cast a contemptuous glance in the window of a tavern he was passing, where several drunks seemed to be having a grand ol' time. _Some people just can't seem to wait, though…_

"Hey!" a voice yelled out just as he was about to leave the tavern behind. "_Hey!_ I'm talking to you!!!"

Johnny stopped, his teeth clenching behind his closed lips. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he turned around. "What?"

A big man stood outside the entrance to the tavern. A couple of other men, apparently his buddies, were slightly behind him. They all looked like they had had a few too many tonight.

"I saw you staring at me," the apparent leader said, obviously inebriated. "I didn't like how you looked at me. Think you're better than me, huh?"

_What the fuck is he talking about?_ "Yeah, I was looking at you. I was looking at the whole bunch of shit-faced ass-ticks in there. What of it?" _Christ. This guy's drunk off his ass. Just what I need…a sack of beer with an anger problem._

"Are you looking for trouble?" the big man growled, not pleased with Johnny's defiant reply. He advanced on the much smaller man, making Johnny stagger backwards. It wasn't fear or intimidation that made him back up, however.

"_Jee_-zus!" he coughed. "You smell like a barrel of tomcat piss! Just what the fuck were you _drinking_?!"

"Shut up! Skinny little faggot!" the man roared. He lunged forward, swinging his ham-sized fist at Johnny's head. As drunk as he was, however, Johnny's head wasn't where he thought it would be. He swung low as a result, catching the smaller man in the chest instead.

Johnny fell backward with a yelp, slammed down onto the pavement by the blow. The world spun around him, and it took him a moment to realize that he had hit his head on the sidewalk when he came down.

"What the f—FUCK!" Johnny opened his eyes to find a shoe coming down toward his face. He rolled to the side so quickly that he hadn't had time to think before he acted. The drunk's foot came down hard on the bare pavement, right where Johnny's head had been half a second before. Now lying on his front, Johnny pushed himself up and jumped to his feet, turning and dashing down the alleyway between the tavern and the neighboring adult-video store.

"Hey! Come back here, you little shit!" his assailant yelled after him.

_Follow me_, Johnny thought, his eyes flashing dangerously. _I dare you._

It only took him a few seconds to reach the back of the alley, stopping short in front of a cement wall covered in graffiti. He spun around to face his pursuer, but had barely finished the turn when he was shoved backward, slammed up against the wall behind him. A big hand was around his neck, squeezing.

"I'll kill you, you little—!" the burly man started to howl, but suddenly stopped before he could finish his threat. His fist was hovering in the air, poised to come smashing down on Johnny's face, but it didn't move. It just hung there, shaking. The man's eyes and mouth were open wide, a look of utter shock on his face.

Johnny's own fists were clenched around the handle of a long-bladed knife, which was buried to the hilt in the man's belly.

"What's that you were saying?" Johnny hissed, his eyes narrowed to slits. Pure loathing was in his gaze, the hate practically radiating off of him.

The drunk fell to his knees, letting go of Johnny's neck. A gurgling noise came from his gaping mouth, and he clawed at Johnny's hands, as if trying to pull the knife out.

"Too bad you're not worth the effort to take home with me," Johnny continued, tightening his grip. "We could have had lots of _fun_!" On the last word, he jerked the knife up, ripping through flesh and organs, a monstrous gash opening in the man's torso as he yanked the blade out. Simultaneously, he stepped to the side, avoiding the spray of blood that exploded from the lethal wound.

The man collapsed backward to the ground. His face was frozen in a look of horror and agony, a grotesque portrait of death. His last breath left his lungs with a slow, hoarse wheeze.

"So," Johnny said almost casually, "who's next?"

The man's two friends had followed them into the alley, intent on joining the "fight", but were now rooted to the spot with terror, their faces veritable masks of fear. The supposed wimp they had been accosting had suddenly metamorphosed into a knife-wielding maniac. Not only that, but he was now walking toward them, raising the same knife he had used to kill their buddy.

Johnny stopped about two paces away from them, the knife still raised. "I'll give you this one chance to run," he said.

He didn't need to tell them twice. Where they had been frozen in fear a second before, they were now bolting away as fast as their legs could carry them. They didn't get far, however. Just as they ran out into the street, too afraid of Johnny to heed traffic, a delivery truck sped by the entrance of the alleyway, mowing both of them down before the driver could stop.

Johnny blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected _that_ to happen. He really had intended to let them go, since they hadn't played an active part in his harassment.

_Oh well_, he shrugged after a moment, lowering the knife. _They would have been dead men if they _hadn't _run._ As an unseen passerby yelled for someone to call 9-1-1, Johnny turned back to the still-warm corpse behind him, paying no attention to the scene in the street. Crouching down, he wiped his bloodied knife off on a clean patch of the man's ripped shirt. "Shit," he muttered. "I just _got_ here, and I've already killed a guy. I don't think I've come even _two blocks_ from where I parked my car." Slipping the knife back into his coat, he stood again and walked out of the alley.

"Do you think they're dead?" he heard a young woman's frightened voice say from nearby.

_If they're lucky, no_, Johnny thought as he walked away. _If they're _not _lucky…well…they and their friend are probably falling into Hell's outskirts right about now._ A wry smile flitted across his thin face. _Say hi to "Senor Diablo" for me, guys.

* * *

_

"Ooh, there's Chopsticks. I should go in there."

Johnny had walked a fair distance from where he had parked his car—and where he had encountered the three men outside the tavern—and was starting to get bored with downtown. There wasn't much to do on a Wednesday night but shop, which didn't interest Johnny at all. He was just about to turn around and start the long trek back to his car when he spotted the new dance club and restaurant a few doors down from where he stood. The establishment hadn't been open for even a week yet, so it seemed pretty lively, even on a Wednesday.

Johnny wasn't exactly part of the dance scene, but he did sometimes go into clubs and dancehalls. Oftentimes, it was with the intent to slaughter the people inside, but occasionally it was just to melt into the crowd and for once not be noticed for being "different". Half the people at raves looked like freaks, and the flashing lights usually didn't allow you to get a good look at anybody anyway. It was an anonymous, all-inclusive environment you could get lost in. He didn't go to dance, of course, as he _really_ didn't want to be in among the writhing sea of bodies crowding the dance floor, but to simply lurk in the shadows and see without being seen. He usually didn't stay long, as the sheer number of _people_ pressing in around him quickly surpassed his tolerance and drove him off, but it wasn't bad while he could stand it. As incongruous with his normal misanthropic personality as it was, he didn't think to question it. Perhaps it was a remnant of his old self before the sickness began to take over…

"Hmm…think I'll see what it's like inside," he muttered. "Nothing better to do."

"Good evening, sir," an employee said as he entered the front door into the lobby. "Welcome to Chopsticks."

"Thanks," Johnny replied with a half-smile. The neat uniform on the girl and the professionalism of her greeting gave him the impression that this place wasn't just another rave club. They were making an effort to be a respectable environment.

As Johnny turned toward the doors leading into the main part of the building, he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes going wide. Without even thinking, he dove to the side, pressing himself back into a shadowed corner. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was sure the girl who had greeted him could hear it.

Devi D. had just walked out into the lobby.

"I had a really good time tonight, Derek," she said, turning to a man who walked out a few seconds later.

"Glad to hear that, sweetheart," the man called Derek smiled back. "I _can_ call you 'sweetheart', can't I?"

"I don't see why not," Devi said, taking his hand. "You don't mind if I hold your hand, do you?"

"Course not." The two of them went out the door, still chatting idly. It would be obvious to any passerby that they were both quite happy with the other's company.

_That was…Devi_, Johnny thought. His mind had gone as still as his body as he witnessed the short exchange. He was standing stiffly, and it was as if all thoughts had drained from his head as he watched.

"Sir, are you all right?" the girl at the door asked him, stepping closer.

_She was on a date with him_, he continued to himself. _All right._ _Fine. It's none of my business. She's moved on with her life. That's what I wanted for her._ His fists clenched at his sides, and he realized he was shaking. _Then why am I so…?_

"Sir?" the girl asked again, peering into his face.

"I-I'm sorry," he managed to say. "I have to go now."

"Can I get you some water?" she asked, looking concerned. "You look like you're about to faint."

_I do?_ "No, I'm fine. Really. I'll…I'll come back some other time." With that, he left, leaving the doorgirl looking after him, confused.

He hurriedly glanced down the sidewalk when he was out the door. He could still see the two of them walking away, presumably toward a car to drive home. They were going in the opposite direction Johnny would have to go to return to his own car.

"Devi," he said under his breath, so quietly it was almost a whisper. His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, as if he were trying to speak, but no words came out. After a moment of watching them steadily move away from him, he turned around and slowly began the long walk back to his little gray car.

He felt numb.

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Argh…this chapter feels really rushed to me. I like the first scene, but the other two seem kinda…eh. I'm sorry about the short chapter, you guys. I ended up splitting what I meant for chapter seven up, so some of it will instead be in chapter eight. This gives me a bit more time to think over what will happen between what I first intended for chapter seven and a major crux in the story that's coming closer. I don't want to just jump between the two, because it would be too abrupt.

On the upside, I actually got this written sort of on schedule! W00t!

So, do you guys think this chapter is too rushed? Did the second scene seem like pointless filler? Was Devi acting too "girly" with Derek? Did I end the chapter too suddenly? I'm having a lot of insecurities about this chapter. In fact, I feel like I've been giving you guys decidedly sub-par writing for the last two or three chapters. I feel bad about it. For what it's worth, I've been sick lately, and I had to deal with losing one of my cats to cancer. I probably shouldn't use that as an excuse, but I think it's affected the quality of my writing a bit.

Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter. Like I said, I think I did a crappy job this time, so don't be shy about letting me know what I already suspect. Just be nice about it, please.

See you all later.


	8. A Bitter Aftertaste

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Muchos gracias to LiLSoRacHaN, GuesssWho, Invader Sideos, JuleWooster, Miscellaneous Penguin, thesupernugget, and PhantomVarg for reading and reviewing chapter seven! I'm glad you guys liked it more than I thought you would. I feel wubbed.

I recently wrote an _Invader Zim_ fanfic called "A Special Day". So far, reader reaction has been pretty good. If you're an _Invader Zim_ fan, go check it out. I'll be posting more _Invader Zim_ fanfics in the near future, as I posted a challenge in "A Special Day" where anyone who figures it out gets to request an _Invader Zim_ one-shot from me. Hopefully, this won't cut into my update schedule for this story. I guess we'll see.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Eight: A Bitter Aftertaste**

Johnny drove home in a daze. He had run into Devi while he was downtown, and she had been on a date with another man. She seemed to know the guy fairly well, so it probably wasn't the first date they had gone on together. Johnny kept telling himself that he should be happy for her, that what he wanted for her was to move on and forget about him. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself of this, however, he couldn't squelch the dull ache throbbing in his chest, nor the icy sensation that had settled under his diaphragm.

He felt sick.

"Why do I feel this way…?" he whispered thinly. "This isn't what I want. This isn't how I should _feel_…! _I shouldn't feel anything!_"

He swallowed thickly as another stab of nausea shot from his guts to his throat. His stomach lurched, his trachea tightened, his mouth tingled…fuck, his salivary glands had just kicked into overdrive. He was about to vomit.

Johnny slammed on the brakes as his insides suddenly squeezed hard. Luckily, he was on a relatively quiet side street, so nobody was behind him at the moment. He dragged himself out of the car, staggered around to the other side, and fell to his knees in a weedy strip of grass running parallel to the sidewalk. It had originally been planted to help "beautify" the area, but was now as unkempt and ugly as everything else.

All he could do was kneel there awkwardly as his stomach lurched violently, trying to expel its contents. At the moment, however, there was nothing in it to expel. Johnny hadn't eaten in over a day. All that resulted were several painful dry heaves. Some bile and stomach acid came up on the last one, stinging his throat and mouth, but that was all. He spat the bitter-tasting liquid out on the grass with a shudder.

He heard a passerby comment snidely about the drinking problem among the city's homeless, apparently misconstruing Johnny's gastronomic spasming as the effect of too much alcohol. He seemed to think Johnny was one of the local bums, too. Considering his messy hair and starved physique, however, that probably wasn't a very hard conclusion to come to.

Johnny glared venomously after the pedestrian, but was too tired to do anything about their ignorant remark. He was shivering with cold and exhaustion, his innards felt like they had been crushed in a vise, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his skin from the straining his body had just gone through. His eyes were watering as well, so his vision was blurry.

Christ, he felt like shit.

Slowly, he got back into his car. For several minutes, he just sat there, breathing in a slow, deliberate pattern. Gradually, the sick feeling lessened, and he was able to raise his head again without feeling dizzy. He had a headache now, but at least the world wasn't spinning anymore.

After an indeterminable amount of time, he finally started the car up again and continued on down the street. He was out of the busiest part of downtown, but he still had a fair distance to go before he reached his house in the suburbs.

"Why is this happening, damn it?" he cursed through his teeth. "Why can't I squash these feelings already?!"

There was no answer to his question. The Doughboys and Nailbunny had been silent for months now, and Reverend Meat was apparently sticking to his promise. It was eerie, feeling alone in his own mind. He couldn't remember a time when he had been truly alone, and Meat's current silence was as close as he had ever come to it for years.

His thoughts were more and more centering around Devi. As much as he struggled to think about something else, he couldn't take his mind off the tall, waif-thin woman. Unbidden, memories of their first encounter started rising to the surface.

After a moment, that was all he could think about.

* * *

_A small door chime jingled as he pushed the door open. Taking a precursory look around, he assessed his surroundings. This store, which the sign outside called "Dragon's Books", seemed to be composed entirely of shelves jam-packed with books. Despite the crowded feel of the merchandise, the place was clean and well-lit. A hint of cinnamon incense hung in the air, and a radio up on the front counter was playing quietly, tuned into an easy-listening station. All in all, it seemed like a nice little bookstore._

_Johnny looked over at the front counter. Right now, there was no one behind it. He could hear someone moving around near the back of the store, though, presumably an employee._

_He took another quick look around, then shrugged his shoulders slightly and walked over to the nearest free-standing bookshelf. If he wanted to find something to read, he ought to first figure out the sectioning method they used._

_It seemed simple. Fantasy, sci-fi, western, historical fiction, romance, reference, nonfiction, biography, religion/spiritual, and so on. The books within each section were arranged alphabetically by author, which made it easy enough._

I haven't read anything new in a long time_, he mused, skimming over the titles in the sci-fi section. _Hell, I haven't read _anything_ in a while. No concentration lately. _It had been quite a long time since he had been able to stay focused on a single task. He was starting to wonder if he didn't have adult-onset attention deficit disorder. Or maybe his insomnia was killing off brain cells. It could be any number of things, he supposed._

Cool-looking carpet_, he thought, looking down at the parquet pattern under his feet. The intricate design was almost hypnotizing._

"_Do you need any help finding anything?" a voice suddenly asked from his left. He looked over and saw a dark-haired woman about his height standing at the end of the aisle with a stack of books in her arms. She was wearing an employee apron, a nametag pinned to the base of the left strap._

"_Not really," he answered. "I was just going to browse until something caught my eye. Thanks, though."_

"_No problem," the woman said. "I can recommend some things, if you don't know what you want."_

_Johnny considered a moment. She seemed like a nice young lady. "All right," he nodded. "Show me what you got."_

"_Let me go put these books down, and I'll be with you in a minute," the woman smiled._

_Johnny waited for a moment while she set the stack of books down behind the counter. He wasn't sure what they were needed for, but he didn't think it was important enough to ask._

"_So, what kinds of books do you like to read?" the woman asked when she came back._

"_All kinds, actually," Johnny replied. "As long as it's written well, I'll read just about anything."_

_The woman nodded slowly. "We're in science fiction. You want to start here?"_

"_Sure," Johnny said with a shrug._

_The woman scanned the shelf in front of them, and then pulled off a book. _Beyond the Event Horizon_, it was called. She explained how she had read a copy that had been damaged during shipment and therefore not put out for sale. She had spent her lunch breaks reading it in the backroom, and had it finished within the week._

_Slowly, they made their way through the store. The woman seemed to like as wide a variety of genres as Johnny did, and so had recommendations for almost every section they came to. Gradually, the conversation turned from recommendations she had to books they had both read, or books Johnny had read that he thought she would like. Later still, they started discussing different authors and the strengths and weaknesses within their individual writing styles. The conversation paused and Johnny waited patiently whenever the woman had to help a customer, but then they started up again once she was free._

_Johnny's jaw dropped when he glanced up at the clock on the wall after a while and saw that he had been there for over three hours._

"_Jesus," he said, "I should probably get going." He looked at the woman with an apology in his eyes. "Sorry for taking up so much of your time, Miss."_

"_Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "It's usually pretty quiet in here on Mondays, and I'm the only one who works this shift. It was nice to have someone to talk to today."_

"_Okay," he said with a half smile. He held up the book he had decided to buy after hearing her praise for it. "Thanks for recommending this. Thanks for all the recommendations, actually."_

"_No problem," she said. "Come back whenever you like. I really enjoyed our conversation today."_

"_Yeah, me too," he grinned. He glanced down at her nametag. "I'll see you later, then, Devi."_

"_Wait a minute!" she called after him when he turned to leave. "You never told me your name!"_

_He turned back toward her, his smile still lingering a little. "It's Johnny, but call me 'Nny' for short."

* * *

_

"GOD DAMN IT!!!" Johnny hollered, gripping his hair. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!!!"

He was yelling at the memories that kept throwing themselves across his mind's eye. However, his demands that they leave him were about as successful as his demands that Reverend Meat do the same.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his clenched fingers to open and dropped his arms to his sides. Glancing up at Todd's bedroom window next door, he thought he saw the outline of a little head looking back at him. Apparently, his tiny neighbor had heard him screaming. As soon as he looked more directly at the window, the faint silhouette disappeared, the child diving for cover when he saw that he had been spotted.

Johnny sighed and continued up the narrow walkway to his front porch.

The bare light bulb hanging from the living room ceiling had burnt out while he had been gone. As a result, it was almost pitch black when he walked in the front door. The only light to be seen was coming from his bedroom around the corner, where an equally bare light bulb still shown dimly.

Johnny swore under his breath when he tripped on a broken floorboard, dropping his car keys as he fought to regain his balance.

"Shit," he swore again, dropping to his knees and feeling around in the dark for his key ring. "FUCK!" he cursed louder as a toothpick-sized splinter lodged itself in the palm of his hand.

Muttering every obscenity he had ever heard, he jerked the splinter out of his hand. A thin stream of blood immediately followed. It would hurt to use that hand for the next several days. The splinter had gone in pretty deep.

After finding his keys with his uninjured hand, he got back to his feet and stalked into the bedroom, flinging the door open hard enough to bang it against the wall behind it. Throwing his keys onto his dresser with enough force to bounce them up against the cracked mirror before falling to the rough wood in a heap, he jerked his long coat off and tossed it on the bed with as much ceremony as his keys.

Tonight had started out so well. He had been gazing at the stars, letting their cold serenity lull him into a rare state of contentment. But then Meat had wheedled him into going downtown to "find something to amuse him". The night had since gone straight to Hell.

"You knew," he growled at the ceramic statue, his eyes threatening murder to anyone who crossed his path. "You _knew_ that would happen, didn't you? _You knew, damn you! YOU KNEWWWWW!!!!!__"_ He grabbed up the figure and shook it furiously, screaming so loudly his ears rang. He wanted to tear the smug little bastard limb from limb.

Reverend Meat didn't answer. Just like he had promised, he didn't utter a word.

Johnny got the overwhelming feeling that the burger boy was laughing at him. With a snarl, he threw the statue back down on the cardboard box it had stood on. The box was knocked over by the impact, dropping the statue down to the wooden dresser top. A chip broke off the burger boy's fat cheek with a loud _ping_.

Johnny barely noticed this, however. He had turned his back on Meat and slid down the front of his dresser to sit on the floor, his head hanging almost between his bent knees.

_He couldn't have known_, he thought numbly. _He's a part of me. He can't predict the future any better than I can._ His eyes started burning, and a lump suddenly lodged itself in his throat. _It was just my fucking bad luck!_

He sat there and cried. Near silent sobs rasped painfully in his throat, which was already raw from the caustic stomach acids he had coughed up earlier. His lungs hurt from lack of adequate air, and the horrible sensation that his heart had been brutally ripped from his chest burned into the very center of his body. Hot tears scalded his chilled skin, and he couldn't stop himself from shaking like a lost, frightened child.

He hadn't felt this low in a _long_ time. Maybe he never had before, in fact.

_I can't keep doing this_, he thought desolately, biting his lip in an attempt to stem his tears. _I can't keep fighting these feelings…! I'm too flimsy…too weak…too FUCKING WEAK!!!_ He gripped the front of his shirt hard, his fingernails almost tearing through the dark gray cotton. He couldn't remember loathing himself so much before. _I do still care for her_, he finally admitted to himself, gritting his teeth so hard he felt them creak. _God damn it, I still _love _her!_

Meat tipped forward slightly, the ceramic figure correcting its equilibrium as the dresser shifted minutely due to Johnny's back pressing against it.

"You…you've won," Johnny ground out through his teeth, literally forcing himself to say the words. "You've won. Are you _happy_ now? You've _won_, all right?! FUCK!" He banged his fist back against the front of the dresser, furious with himself for losing to his own rebellious mind. He couldn't even best _himself_ in a battle of wills. Fucking hell, he was pathetic.

The dresser rocked with the impact of his fist, and Reverend Meat lurched forward, rolling off the top and whacking Johnny in the head.

"OW!" he yelped. "SHIT!"

The burger boy had landed in his lap after braining him. He scowled down at it darkly, rubbing the sore spot on his scalp. After a moment of seething, he knocked it to the side, making it bounce awkwardly across the floor before once again coming to a stop.

Cracks were starting to form over the statue, making it look even more ghastly than usual. Johnny, however, didn't even notice. He didn't give a fuck about anything right now.

"I'm sorry, Devi," he whispered hoarsely, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his rail-thin arms around them. "I wish I could forget you…"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** This chapter was really easy to write. I'm not exactly sure why, but it's like it just wrote itself. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Hopefully it's a good thing, because I like how this chapter turned out. The only question I have is if Nny's breakdown at the end was too melodramatic. On one hand, I don't think it is, because he's reached the very end of his rope and is being forced to realize he can never achieve his goal of emotional numbness. On the other hand, I'm afraid I let my Muse go a bit overboard with his emotions. So, what do you guys think? Did I exaggerate his reaction to losing the fight with Meat too much, or does it work considering the circumstances? Also, did he give up too quickly, or do you think he resisted long enough?

Anyway, please leave a review. Let me know what you think of this chapter, be your opinion good or bad. Check out "A Special Day" if you're an _Invader Zim_ fan, too. I like how that story came out. If it makes any difference, it's a Tallest-centric fic.

See you all in a couple weeks!


	9. Lachrymose

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Thanks so much to vashsunglasses, GuesssWho, Sheamaru, Miscellaneous Penguin, Invader Sideos, JuleWooster, thesupernugget, Reds Owshad Dark, and Saiyajin Princess Chichi for reading and reviewing chapter eight! I rather liked that chapter, and I'm glad you all did, too.

I'm really sorry for being late with this chapter. Life kinda ganged up on me again, and I really didn't feel like writing this when I was supposed to. I wish I had a better excuse for being late, but I don't. Hopefully there won't be any more delays in the future.

The song "Anywhere" was written by and belongs to Evanescence. I love the song, and it clicked right into place with the scene I'm using it in. Hopefully I'm not breaking any rules by including the song in this chapter. Consider it a form of homage to my favorite band. Now, I know there's a song on their latest album called "Lacrymosa", but that's not where I got the chapter title. I'm a huge Evanescence fan, but that part's just a coincidence.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Nine: Lachrymose**

Johnny opened his eyes. A sharp pain was throbbing along his neck and between his shoulder blades. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was or what he had been doing. He just knew he was in a very uncomfortable position.

A few seconds later, it hit him. He was sitting cross-legged on the bare floor of his bedroom, leaning sideways against the equally bare wall. His die-ary was sitting open on his lap, and a pen was held loosely in the fingers of his right hand, which was lying limply on the page. The reason his neck and shoulders were hurting so much was because he was hunched over awkwardly, his head hanging low over the book.

_Fuck. I've been sleeping again._

He sat up, wincing slightly as his sore muscles protested. Looking down at his die-ary, he realized he must have nodded off without warning. He had stopped writing in the middle of a word, unable to even finish his thought.

"Staying awake for days on end can do that to a person," a voice suddenly said from his left.

Johnny scowled darkly at Reverend Meat. The ceramic statue was still lying on the floor, cracked in places from its tumble off the dresser, but that apparently didn't hinder his ability to speak at all.

"I thought you were going to be quiet," he muttered, more to himself than to the statue.

"I said I'd be quiet for a while," Meat countered, "and it's been a few days now. I think a while is now up."

"Hmph," Johnny grunted.

"You should get into bed and sleep some more," Meat said, ignoring Johnny's irritation. "God knows you need much more than the little bit of rest you managed to get down here on the floor."

"Don't talk to me about God," Johnny growled. "And why would I willingly go back to sleep? I _detest_ sleep."

"I know, I know," Meat conceded, though with the tone of parent having grown bored with their child's stubbornness. "It 'dissolves what certainty you have left.' Despite your ridiculous opinion of it, however, you can't deny that your body needs it. Your brain would die with exhaustion without it."

"Just why are you still talking, anyway?" Johnny suddenly asked, sidestepping the subject at hand. "I've already admitted that you've won. Haven't you finished serving your purpose by now?" He spoke through his teeth, loath to mention his defeat. It had been at least three days now, but his wounded pride had yet to begin healing.

"One would think so," Meat seemed to shrug. "I've decided to stick around a little while longer, though. I want to make sure you really meant it. One can never be too careful about these things, especially concerning someone as unstable as you."

"Great," Johnny grimaced. Deciding to ignore anything Meat happened to say next, he looked down at the page he had been writing on before losing consciousness.

_Sometimes I wonder what life would be lik_

As he stared at the unfinished sentence, the thought that had been running through his mind at the time came back to him.

_Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if things had happened differently. Would my life be better or worse? Would I be happy or unhappy? Sane or insane? Is there any way of knowing, and if there is, would I _want _to know? Life has so many possibilities and so many potential outcomes. Does even Destiny know what would have happened had he walked a different path?_

After a moment, he picked up the pen again and crossed out the fragment. He really didn't want to finish that thought. Wondering how life would be different would inevitably lead to wondering if things between him and Devi would be different. That was not something he wanted to think about if he could help it.

"Where are you going?" Meat asked as Johnny stood up from the floor.

"Downstairs," the thin man replied, depositing the book and pen on his dresser. He gave no explanation. Indeed, no explanation was needed.

"I see," Meat said, seeming to nod. "Well, have fun, Nny."

"Mmph."

* * *

Devi looked down at her watch as she walked down the hallway toward her apartment. 

_Jeez, I was in that meeting longer than I thought. It's almost eight o'clock._

Shifting the portfolio she held under her arm, she reached into her pocket for her keys. She had just returned home from a meeting with the graphic arts director at Doppelganger Press. Ms. Sununu had wanted to see the progress Devi had been making on her current project for them, as well as give her a routine performance review. The meeting had turned into a discussion about how the project may best proceed from this point on, the two of them hashing out exactly what was expected of Devi and what Devi thought she could deliver. They had eventually come to an agreement, both of them on the same page as to what the finished product would entail.

_Ms. Sununu is _so _much easier to talk with than Mr. Nevers was_, she thought as she unlocked her front door. _She's clear on what she expects from us artists, but she's not a Nazi about it. She actually _values _our input, rather than accuses us of "not being team players."_

She entered her apartment and shut the door behind her. Setting her portfolio on the coffee table, she shrugged off her coat and tossed it on the couch. She'd put them where they belonged later. Right now, she wanted to get something to eat and then do some personal painting before starting on the concept sketches she had in mind for the Doppelganger project.

After turning the kettle on to boil water for a cup of instant ramen, she walked over to her entertainment system and opened her CD rack. She felt like painting to music tonight, as she often did while working on personal stuff. She didn't have any solid ideas in her head at the moment, and meant to just let the painting come out on its own. Music helped that happen, having inspired some of her favorite ideas in the past.

Picking out a CD Tenna had burned for her, she placed it in the CD player and pressed play just as kettle started whistling. She turned the music up loud enough to be easily heard in the drawing room, and went to add the water to the noodles to soak.

Tenna had given her this CD soon after Devi had begun shutting herself up in her apartment. She had described it as a collection of songs that would "help cheer her up." They weren't _happy_ songs, per se, as that wasn't the kind of music Devi was interested in, but it was for the most part more positive fare than she generally listened to. It was a good mix of songs, she had decided, and put it in every so often while she was painting or reading.

Humming along with the first track, she perused her collection of pigments, randomly picking out colors to use. Blue, black, white, red, brown…

Slurping up some of the noodles from the steaming cup she had just retrieved from the kitchen, she stared at the blank canvas for a few moments, just thinking. As the first notes of the second song on the CD drifted in from the living room, she picked up her brush and started.

Devi recognized what was playing and smiled a bit. She liked this song. It had a nice relaxing rhythm, and the singer's voice was beautiful.

_Dear my love, haven't you wanted to be with me  
__And dear my love, haven't you longed to be free  
__I can't keep pretending that I don't even know you  
__And at sweet night, you are my own  
__Take my hand_

She swept the wide-bristled brush across the canvas, painting broad swaths of blue over the off-white fibers. She started losing herself in her thoughts, letting her hands paint of their own accord. It wasn't often she let herself go on total autopilot like this, but some rather interesting paintings had come out of such half-trances before, so she did nothing to stop it.

Smiling again faintly, she remembered the conversation she had had with Derek over the phone earlier today. He had called her about a new exhibit that was opening at the art museum next week. The theme was to be Psychometric Impressionism, and he wanted to know if she was interested in going. It was an art style she wasn't very familiar with, but it sounded interesting, from what he described. She was intrigued to see it for herself.

_We're leaving here tonight  
__There's no need to tell anyone  
__They'd only hold us down  
__So by the morning light  
__We'll be halfway to anywhere  
__Where love is more than just your name_

Her relationship with Derek was really going well. They had only been on two real dates so far, but they had talked with each other on the phone plenty of times. Their conversation topics ranged from art to movies to politics to music to places they had been in the past. They often jumped from subject to subject and back again, going off on tangents and then returning to what they had been talking about twenty minutes before. Sometimes they came close to arguing, but then the conversation would go off in a different direction and they'd forget that they had even disagreed on something.

All in all, their "gab sessions" as Tenna called them had been rather enjoyable. Most of her previous "boyfriends" had been pretty decent conversationalists (until the inevitable date-ending disasters), but none of them had been quite as fun to talk with as Derek.

Well…that wasn't entirely true. There was _one_ other person she had been able to hold such engaging conversations with, and she had known him for almost three months before they had gone out on a date. In those three months, she and Johnny had talked with each other almost every day about anything and everything under the sun. She had really liked that.

_I have dreamt of a place for you and I  
__No one knows who we are there  
__All I want is to give my life only to you  
__I've dreamt so long I cannot dream anymore  
__Let's run away, I'll take you there_

Ugh, Johnny. Why did she have to think about _him_? That was the one date she wanted to forget more than all of the others combined. Considering how shitty (sometimes literally) her dating history has been, that said quite a lot about her night out with the murderous psychopath.

It had started out so promising. It had only been a first date, but she had been thinking that maybe he was the one for her. They already knew each other well, so it wasn't a blind date or anything. She _thought_ she knew him well, at least. Man, was she proven wrong later that night.

She scowled, swiping the brush over the canvas. After what had appeared to be her first good date in a long time, he had gone and ruined it in the worst possible way. In a matter of seconds, he had completely shattered her entire world, grinning like a demon the entire time. If she hadn't been lucky enough to land that initial kick, he'd probably have her head on a pike somewhere in that filthy little house of his.

"Damn you, Nny," she gritted, feeling tears prick her eyes. Fuck, she was letting her emotions get the best of her again.

_We're leaving here tonight  
__There's no need to tell anyone  
__They'd only hold us down  
__So by the morning light  
__We'll be halfway to anywhere  
__Where no one needs a reason_

"I thought we had something!" she bit out. "I was _convinced_ I wanted to spend my life with you! _And you ruined everything!!!_" She was fairly slashing the brush across the canvas now, her voice getting louder with every word. Rage over the betrayal was boiling up again, and she was practically attacking the canvas, as if it were Johnny himself standing before her rather than her easel.

Finally, with a particularly vicious jab, she punched the end of her paintbrush right through the painting. With a snarl, she jerked the brush upward, tearing a wide gash across the surface, exposing the easel's framework underneath.

"BASTARD!!!" she shrieked, lashing out again and knocking the easel to the floor with such force that it skidded several feet toward the far wall before coming to a stop. Falling to her knees on the paint-splattered drop cloth, she flung her brush to the side in frustration. Wet paint was smeared across the backs of her fingers from where her fist had hit the canvas, and her hand throbbed dully with the impact. Though the pain was only slight, it was enough to make her brimming tears overflow and stream down her reddened cheeks.

_Forget this life  
__Come with me  
__Don't look back you're safe now  
__Unlock your heart  
__Drop your guard  
__No one's left to stop you_

"Why the hell are you crying?!" she muttered hoarsely to herself, swiping at her tears. She was in a relationship she was happy with. Why should she even care about what _could_ have been in a previous relationship? That was all behind her now.

_Listen to the song_, she said inwardly, swallowing thickly as she did so. _Deep down, that's what you wish you could say to Nny. He was perfect for you, and the idealistic little girl in you wanted nothing more than to run away and build a new life in a new home with him. A fresh start away from all your troubles. But he dashed those childish hopes of yours against the harsh rocks of reality and left you with nothing but the bitter fragments of your girlish fantasy. Could he possibly have been any crueler to you?_

Was it really true? Was _that_ why she was crying? Did she really wish things had gone differently between her and Johnny? But why would she have any _reason_ to wish that? She _had_ a boyfriend, and she was happy being with him. Derek was so much better for her than that circus freak could ever be. She'd have to be _crazy_ to wish it was Johnny she was dating rather than Derek.

_Forget this life  
__Come with me  
__Don't look back you're safe now  
__Unlock your heart  
__Drop your guard  
__No one's left to stop you now_

Sniffling, her face streaked with tears and paint and makeup, she wobbled back up to her feet. Her head was swimming, and she almost dropped back to the floor. She needed to lie down before she passed out.

Looking down at the toppled painting, she saw through blurry eyes just what she had painted in her fit of emotion. The mere sight of it only made her cry harder. It was a crude picture, made up entirely of jagged slashes and rough edges, but even through her tears she recognized who it was.

Johnny C. stared back at her from the torn canvas, his expression serene and not at all threatening. He had often worn that look during their conversations in the bookstore, feeling wholly at ease with Devi and the complete openness she displayed while speaking with him. He had seemed to take special pleasure in their casual bantering, as if he preferred her company over anyone else's. Compared to the murderous psychopath she had discovered him to be, the face in the painting seemed to belong to an entirely different person.

_We're leaving here tonight  
__There's no need to tell anyone  
__They'd only hold us down  
__So by the morning light  
__We'll be halfway to anywhere  
__Where love is more than just your name_

Devi staggered out into the living room as the last lines of the song emanated from the speakers set around the room. Fairly collapsing onto the couch, she realized she was sweating, which only made her shiver in the cool air of her apartment. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought she was developing a fever. Pressing her fingers to her temples, she tried to will herself to calm down.

It didn't work.

After several moments of futilely trying to relax, succeeding only in getting tenser and tenser with every passing minute, she sat up and reached for the phone. She dialed the first number that came to her mind, but suddenly stopped herself just as she was about to punch in the seventh digit. She was about to call Derek. She couldn't talk to him about this. How could she possibly explain to him that she had just been sobbing over an ex-boyfriend of only one date? One who had tried to kill her, no less? Her relationship with Derek was going well, but they had just barely started. If she threw all this on him after only two dates, chances are she'd never see him again. She didn't want to risk scaring him off when their relationship had such great potential.

Hanging up and starting again, Devi dialed a different number, one that was even more familiar to her.

"Tenna?" she asked shakily when the other woman answered. "Are you busy? I really need someone to talk to right now…"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Sooooo…what do you think? Is it too dramatic, or did I keep it from going overboard? My original plan for this chapter had Devi more in control of her emotions, but I think I like it better this way. Music can evoke rather powerful feelings in a person, and since Devi is so passionate about painting, she's quite emotionally invested in her art as well. Mix those two things together with her volatile feelings surrounding Nny, and you potentially have a miniature meltdown like what she just had here. My only questions are if you guys think I wrote this chapter well, and if I used an appropriate song. I've never incorporated a song into a story before, and I'd greatly appreciate any input.

I suppose the first scene may seem a bit extraneous, but I'm not worried about it. I just wanted to give you guys a glimpse into how Nny is doing since his admission of defeat in the last chapter before going on to the main part of this chapter. If you think the first scene is pointless, I apologize.

Anyway, please leave a review. This chapter took me _forever_ to write and edit, mainly because of various distractions that kept coming at me. One, my brain kept wanting to freeze up for no apparent reason. Two, I was treated to unnecessarily loud music from the cleaning crew in the apartment across the hall from me. Three, my seven-week-old kitten kept jumping up onto my lap and chewing rather vigorously upon my hands. As a result, I am rather tired out after writing and editing this. I would be most appreciative of any feedback you guys may have for me. The reviews so far have been lovely, and I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. I'm very thankful for your praise, believe me.

Yes, I snuck in another _Sandman_ reference. Dunno what possessed me to do it, but I did. If you spotted it, nice work; if you didn't, too bad. In the words of the Almighty Tallest Purple, YOU SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER!!!


	10. Segue

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

I know, I know…this chapter is incredibly late. I'm really, really sorry. I just haven't had any chance to write in the past few weeks. Whenever I wanted to, I had no spare time, and whenever I had time to write, I didn't feel like it. It's been extremely frustrating, believe me. I feel bad that this is such a short chapter, since I made you guys wait almost a month for it. I've always meant for this chapter to be short, though. It's basically a connector between chapters nine and eleven, so not much happens. I'm sorry for having such a sparse offering after making you guys wait for so long. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, regardless.

Please note that there is an **important announcement** after the chapter.

Anyway, thanks to thesupernugget, GuesssWho, sunglassesANDunicorns, Miscellaneous Penguin, kalilamae, JuleWooster, Invader Sideos, Saiyajin Princess Chichi, Megga B, desdemona kakalose, and Sheamaru for reading and reviewing chapter nine! That's the most reviews I've gotten on a single chapter in this story. I'm glad you all liked my first attempt at a songfic.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Ten: Segue**

"I really like this new hair color, Devi. It goes so well with your eyes."

"Thanks, Tenna."

Tenna smiled, happy that her compliment had garnered a reaction. Devi had been acting rather gloomy the entire visit. Not that that was unusual, but Tenna was pleased to see a bit of a crack in Devi's apparent depression. She had invited the reclusive artist down to her apartment for some "girly time", mainly as a distraction from what was currently plaguing Devi's mind. So far, however, Tenna hadn't had much success in lightening Devi's mood.

"You really need to cheer up, Devi," she finally said, snapping the elastic hair-tie onto the end of the braid she had just woven into the other woman's hair.

Devi didn't make any kind of reply.

"You're going out with Derek tonight," Tenna continued. "You won't make a very fun date if you keep pouting around like this."

"I know," Devi mumbled as Tenna moved over to her other side to braid the rest of her hair. As teenagers, the two of them did each other's hair all the time. They didn't do it nearly as often now, but they hadn't stopped altogether, either. Tenna was glad Devi had let her hair grow a bit longer than normal lately. She thought the other woman looked cute in braids.

"Are you still upset about that painting?" Tenna asked. "That was three days ago. You can't keep moping over it forever."

"I _know_," Devi said again, more forcefully this time. "I'm not _moping_, Tenna." She was offended at such a characterization of her depression. She wasn't some spoiled little kid sulking over not getting her way. She had been genuinely distressed three nights ago, and the lingering uneasiness was stubbornly refusing to dissipate. It wasn't something she could just cast aside like yesterday's underwear.

"Sorry," Tenna muttered, wishing she had worded it differently. The last thing she wanted to do was make Devi even moodier than she already was.

Devi gave a long sigh, her shoulders slumping a bit. "Why did it happen, Ten?" she asked, her voice quiet again. "Why now? Why now that I'm finally learning what it feels like to be happy? I thought I had finally gotten over him. Why did he have to come back to haunt me like this?"

Tenna didn't say anything in return. She just focused on the braid forming between her fingers. Nothing she could say seemed appropriate, so she kept her mouth shut.

Dead silence was such an unusual reaction from Tenna that Devi wondered briefly if she had suddenly gone deaf.

"Ten?" she asked, feeling a twinge of nervousness. Her friend's lack of a response was unnerving.

"Yeah?"

A short pause.

"Never mind," Devi finally said. She didn't know what she had been planning on saying, and nothing was coming to mind.

Tenna fastened the end of the second braid and moved around to sit in front of Devi. The two of them were now sitting cross-legged on her living room floor, facing each other.

"Are you really happy with Derek, Devi?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

"Yes," Devi replied. "He's the first 'real' boyfriend I've had in a long time. Of course I'm happy with him."

"Then, why do you keep thinking about Johnny?"

"I don't know. That's what I wish I could understand."

"Think it has anything to do with him showing up at the bookstore a couple weeks ago?"

Devi paused for a moment. "Maybe…"

Tenna propped her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. "Maybe seeing him again reminded you of something."

"Oh, it reminded me of something, all right," Devi scowled. "It reminded me of how much I hate that asshole."

Tenna looked at her for a moment before continuing. "Are you sure that's it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well…you're happy with Derek. I get that. But, Devi, back when you told me you had asked Johnny out, you said you thought you could be happy with him, too. You really believed it, and so did I."

"So what?" Devi asked, slightly defensive. She didn't particularly like where this was going.

"You're learning what it's like to be happy with Derek," Tenna replied. "Do you think, maybe, deep down, you wish you were learning to be happy with Johnny instead?"

"Absolutely not," Devi snapped, almost too quickly. "Why the hell would I wish it were that psycho instead of Derek?"

"I dunno," Tenna shrugged, "but it would explain why you keep thinking about him."

Devi suddenly stood. "I need to go," she said simply, starting for the door.

"Devi!" Tenna cried, half getting up. "I didn't mean to upset you!"

The magenta-haired woman stopped with her hand on the doorknob. "I know," she said with a sigh. "You didn't upset me. I just…have to get ready for tonight."

"But Derek's not picking you up for almost four hours."

Devi paused again. "Thanks for braiding my hair, Tenna. I'll see you later."

And then she left.

Tenna stared at the door for several seconds as Devi's footsteps disappeared down the hallway outside. After a moment, she sat back down on the floor, sighing much like Devi had.

"Even if _you_ don't wish it was Johnny, _I_ sure as hell do," she muttered, annoyance creasing her forehead. "You were _so_ much easier to deal with before things went to shit between you two."

* * *

Devi flopped down into the easy chair in the corner of her living room. She rubbed at her temples with her fingertips, squeezing her eyes shut. Damn it, she hadn't had a headache since Sickness was banished from her mind. She didn't need one _now_.

_Shit, Tenna_, she thought. _Why'd you have to be so fucking sharp tonight?_

Truth be told, she had once asked herself the very same question Tenna had just posed.

What if she _did_ wish it were Johnny rather than Derek?

She refused to believe it. She wasn't some masochist looking for pain. The idea that she would rather be with some knife-wielding freak like Johnny instead of a perfectly sane man like Derek was ridiculous.

Still, the thought _had_ occurred to her, and the very fact that it had was disturbing. She'd rather dig her own eyes out with a rusty spoon than even _consider_ that it might be true.

She didn't know what she would do if she found out that it _was_ true. Probably kill herself.

"Fuck!" she swore aloud. "Why did you have to be so fucking _nice_ to me?!" _Why did you have to make me love you and then HATE you with every fiber of my being?!_

She _had_ loved him. She rarely admitted it to herself anymore, but she had fallen in love with him sometime during those three months they had known each other. That feeling had only grown over time, and she had been almost giddy with it by the time they had arrived at his house at the end of their single night out together.

Devi had witnessed and experienced plenty of shocking things in her life, but nothing had ever been so traumatizing as Johnny's attempt on her life. After beating him to a bloody mess and then fleeing his rundown little house, she had spent the night barricaded in her bedroom, literally screaming her throat raw in sheer horror.

She hadn't been able to sleep for days afterward. Every time she closed her eyes, she had seen Johnny standing in front of his shattered mirror, flanked by those hideous dolls, pointing wickedly sharp knives at her with a crazed grin on his face. She knew that image had been burned into her brain for the rest of her life. It still came to her in her nightmares, and sometimes she didn't wake up in time to keep those knives from slicing through her throat…

_BEEBEEBEEBEEP!_

Devi nearly jumped out of her skin as a shrill sound split the air, startling her out of her brooding. The phone was ringing.

"Hey there, Devi," a familiar voice said from the other end when she answered.

"Oh," she said, relief flooding her system. "Hi, Derek."

"Are you all right?" he asked, detecting the slight tremor she hadn't been able to keep out of her voice.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she answered, trying to smile.

"Are you sure? You sound like you're in pain."

"Oh, I just have a light headache," she lied. "It should be gone by the time you pick me up tonight, so don't worry."

"Ah," he said, although he didn't sound entirely satisfied with her answer. "Anyway, Devi, I'm actually calling about that. Do you mind if I pick you up half an hour earlier than we planned? I thought maybe we'd grab a quick bite before the movie, so we're not completely starving by the time we go to dinner. It's a pretty long film, and I know you don't like theater snacks very much."

"Sure, no problem!" she said, brightening at the suggestion. The thought of starting their date earlier, and thus giving her less time between now and then to think about Johnny, was exactly what she needed right now. Her smile became a little easier to maintain.

"Good!" he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice. "I'll see you around 4:30, then."

"Okay," she nodded. "Bye, Derek."

She felt the tension slowly drain out of her as she set the phone down. She still had about three hours before Derek picked her up, which quite possibly meant three hours of dwelling on Johnny, but at least that was less time than she expected to have.

_Thank God for small favors, I guess_, she thought, glancing skyward. _If there really is a God up there, that is…_

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** See? Really short. But like I said, this chapter functions as a connector between the chapters on either side of it. It's sort of a prologue to chapter eleven, I guess you could say. As a result, not much happened here. I hope you guys didn't find it too boring. I won't fault you if you think it's crap, though, 'cause this is most definitely not my best work. Chapter eleven will be better (and more interesting), I promise.

Now for my **important announcement**: My schedule at my new job is much more random than at my previous job. I'm working about the same amount of hours per week, but I don't have the same shift every day like I used to. I don't have the same days off every week, either. Therefore, it's very likely that future updates on this story will also be more random than before. I didn't exactly stick to my update schedule before, but now it will be more than laziness keeping me from updating if a chapter is late. I will try to make updates as close to every couple of weeks as possible, but I can't promise anything. Please be patient with me. I'll try my best to update as regularly as I can.

I'd like you guys to review this chapter, but since it's so short (and, in my opinion, rather mediocre), I won't blame you if you don't.

I'll see you all next time. Thanks for being so patient with me, and for staying with this story even through crappy chapters like this. We're getting closer and closer to a major happening, and I'm getting rather anxious for it. Hopefully it will pack as much of a punch as I think it will. I guess I'll just have to wait and see.


	11. Downward Shift

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Well…this chapter isn't _quite_ as long in coming as I feared it would be. It's still a lot later than I would have liked it to be. I guess I shouldn't complain though, huh?

Thanks a bunch to desdemona kakalose, Tagi-sama, Invader Sideos, GuesssWho, Phx88gir, JuleWooster, Miscellaneous Penguin, M ii K U r U, CrushonDib, and khaosfire for reading and reviewing chapter ten! That's more reviews than I expected to get on such a short chapter. I love you guys.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Eleven: Downward Shift**

Devi D. stepped silently through her door into her apartment, her keys clutched in one hand. Shutting the door without even looking behind her, she leaned back against the painted wood, staring impassively ahead of her. Her face was blank, but her green eyes were swirling with a myriad of conflicting emotions.

She had just returned home from her third date with Derek O'Farrell.

Alone.

Her eyes finally flickered downward from their unfocused stare, gazing at the grey carpet as her nose wrinkled in thought. Unconsciously, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

Tonight's date had been going so well, just like the other two they had been on together. They had grabbed a quick bite to eat, went to see a movie, and then returned to Chopsticks for dinner and dancing. They both had been having a great time. Devi had felt like absolutely nothing could ruin her night.

But then Derek had invited her over to his place as they left the dance club. Devi had seen no reason to decline, so she had cheerfully accepted the offer, happy to extend their date for another hour or so. He lived in a quieter part of town, much like Devi's neighborhood, and from what he had told her about it, his apartment was on the small side, but perfect for the kind of life he lived.

When they had arrived, she had been impressed with how well he managed his space, furniture and storage units arranged to get the maximum use out of the available room. It was a studio apartment, so the living area overflowed into the "bedroom" and vice versa. Derek had taken her coat and hung it on one of the pegs by the door.

And then he had pressed her for sex.

Devi shivered just remembering it. She had come a long way in the past few months, and now felt hardly any anxiety at all in leaving her apartment and interacting with people. The thought of getting _that_ close to someone, however, still sent a dart of nausea into her stomach. She wasn't fully "cured", not by a long shot, and intimacy on that deep of a level was still forbidden territory as far as she was concerned. She wasn't comfortable with it, and likely wouldn't be comfortable with it for a long while yet. Therefore, she had turned back his advances with a simple yet firm "No."

_Oh, c'mon, babe_, he had said. _It's our third date already. Let's have a little fun._

Devi felt her jaw tighten. She _hated_ it when men called her "babe". It was insulting, demeaning, and made her feel like she was just a piece of meat to these guys, like the only thing they thought she was good for was to provide an image they could hold in their minds as they jacked themselves off.

_We haven't even spent a total of two days together, Derek_, she had responded, keeping her face and voice calm. _I'm not open to that kind of relationship yet._

_So, how long do you intend to make me wait?_ Derek had asked, coming toward her, a half-smile on his face. It was like he was expecting her to admit she was joking.

_I honestly don't know_, she had replied truthfully. _I probably won't know for a while yet, either._

_You're not one of those "I'm saving myself for marriage" girls, are you?_ There was the tiniest hint of a sneer in his voice, as if he thought such girls weren't worth his attention.

_No_, she had answered, feeling a twinge of unease. She had never heard him talk like that before…

_So, what's the problem?_ he had pressed, beginning to sound impatient. _What,__ are you a virgin? C'mon, Devi, there's nothing to be scared of! I'm not gonna hurt you!_

Before she could stop it, her face had twisted itself into a thoroughly sour expression. She wasn't a virgin, but it wasn't the insinuation that she was that had pissed her off so suddenly. She had never understood why being a virgin was something to be mocked or ridiculed. What was pissing her off was that her boyfriend was condescending to her like some naïve, spineless child. Like she was refusing to go on a carnival ride because it "looked scary".

_No_, she had said, no small amount of venom in her voice. _I'm not. But that's not the point. I don't know how lightly _you_ may take sex, Derek, but I'm not going to jump into bed with you just because it's our third date. I don't give a fuck _how_ much I like you. I said no, and I _mean_ no. I don't care if you have to dump ice water down your pants to do it, but you get that idea out of your head._

_Jesus, what's gotten into you?_ Derek had asked, looking at her like she had grown a third eye. _You don't have to be a bitch about it!_

Devi had just looked at him for a moment, at a loss for a response. He had just called her a bitch. For asserting her right to refuse him. For not caving into his demands like a "good girl". For having the gall to stand up for herself.

A disgusted feeling was starting to settle in the pit of her stomach.

_I'm going home, Derek_, she had said, retrieving her coat and turning toward the door. _If you somehow manage to get your brain out of your dick and back into your skull, then call me._ She had stopped in the doorway to look back at him briefly. _Thanks for the date tonight. I had a great time._

And then she had left, letting the door swing shut behind her.

The hands on the bus station clock had been approaching one o'clock in the morning by the time she had arrived. She felt really uncomfortable taking the bus so late at night, but figured getting a ride home from Derek would be even more uncomfortable. If she had to, she could just kick whatever creep was bothering her in the balls and make a break for it. She could take care of herself, and it was only a half-hour ride to her part of town.

Her watch had beeped 1:30 just as the bus dropped her off in front of her apartment building. Looking up, she saw only a few windows with lights behind them. The rest were dark. The occupants were sleeping, like any normal person would be at this hour.

Barely sparing the lighted windows a glance, she trudged up the front walkway and into the building. Minutes later, she was leaning against the inside of her front door, scowling at the carpet like tonight was all its fault.

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes. She didn't feel angry anymore. She was just…shocked. The last thing she had expected out of Derek was a push to have sex. He just hadn't seemed like that kind of guy. He was too nice, too smart, and nothing he had said or done before had indicated that he expected something like that from her. Or was she mistaken in that? Had there been signs before tonight, and had she just been too blind to notice? Had she been so caught up in her first real relationship in years that she had ignored all warning signals? Was his catching her off guard completely her own fault?

_Or were there really no signals at all?_ she thought. _Did he do that on purpose? Was he trying to lull me into a false sense of security? Was he just playing the nice guy so he could get into my pants?_ Her face twisted into a scowl again. _Just what kind sucker does he take me for?! Does he think I'd jump right into bed with him just because he gave me a good time? How _easy_ does he think I am?!_

"I said no," she growled into the empty apartment. "That should have been the end of it!"

Pushing away from the door, she stalked across the living room, jerking her coat off her shoulders and throwing it onto the couch. Plopping down next to it, she snatched up the phone, her fingers punching in a familiar number. Just before the last digit, however, she suddenly froze.

_I can't tell this to Tenna!_ she realized, nearly slamming the phone back into its cradle. _Not after what she said to me! She'd just take it as an excuse to throw Nny at me again! I don't need that shit right now!_

Leaning back on the couch with a sigh, she stared up at the ceiling for a long while. If she tried painting, she'd just destroy another canvas. She knew that if she tried reading, she wouldn't be able to concentrate. TV at this hour was restricted to infomercials and thirty-year-old sitcoms. She didn't have any friend but Tenna to call, and Tenna was the last person she wanted to talk to right now. Well…second-to-last, after Derek. Mmm…okay, third-to-last, after Derek and Johnny C.

"Fuck," she swore, standing up suddenly. "To hell with this. I'm going to bed."

* * *

"What's the matter, Nny? You seem so gloomy tonight."

Johnny looked over his shoulder at Reverend Meat, who was still lying on the floor where he had fallen. "You say that as if it's a rare occurrence," he said dryly, giving the statue a halfhearted glare.

"I'm just concerned," Meat said as Johnny turned back to the window.

"Sure you are," the thin man said, a hint of hollowness in his voice. "If you're so concerned about my wellbeing, then get the fuck out of my head. You're only making things worse."

"If I'm making things worse for you," Meat countered, "then that means you're only making things worse for yourself."

Johnny sighed, dropping his head into his hands. He was really getting sick of that infuriating voice. At least the Doughboys occasionally said things he wanted to hear. Or thought he wanted to hear, anyway.

"Just what do you want from me?" he finally asked, his teeth clenched.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, you little bastard!" he fairly shouted, rounding on the burger boy. "You know damn well what I'm talking about! You've won! Don't you _get_ it?! You've _won_! Your job's done! I've admitted defeat! I've accepted that I can't block out my emotions! I've even acknowledged that I still have feelings for Devi! What more do you _want_?! _What more do I have to do?!_"

"Well," Meat replied after a few moments, "I'd _like_ to see you somewhat happy."

"Oh, fuck," Johnny snorted. "Like _that's_ ever going to happen."

"One never knows, Nny," Meat said, a shrug in his voice.

"Tch." Johnny turned back to the window again. The night sky was overcast, thick clouds blocking out the stars and the moon. The only light outside was from the streetlamps and the occasional lighted window. If the power were to go out, the neighborhood would be plunged into complete and total darkness.

Johnny scowled. He hated nights like this. One of the few joys he got out of life was watching the stars slowly turn overhead. Nights where he couldn't see them invariably put him into an even blacker mood than usual. Winter was his least favorite time of year for this very reason. Invariably, he ended up killing more people in the colder months that during the rest of the year.

"So, what are you going to do, Nny?" Meat asked after a pause. "Where do you go from here?"

"I don't know," Johnny answered, unconsciously hugging himself, as if guarding against a cold wind. "I just…don't know."

* * *

Devi slouched in her seat as she chewed her breakfast. She had slid so far down that her butt was on the edge of the cushion while her head and shoulders were upright against the back of the couch. Her feet were propped up on the coffee table in front of her, and a bowl of cereal was balanced on her stomach. Drops of milk had dribbled off her spoon on the way to her mouth and soaked into the front of her pajamas, but she didn't particularly care at the moment. The morning news blared at her from the TV set, and though she was watching the screen through the "V" formed by her bent knees, she wasn't paying any attention.

She was in a foul mood. The first thought into her head upon waking had been the memory of last night. The more she thought about it, the crankier she got, and now she was fairly fuming as she shoveled down bites of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

_Fucking men_, she mentally growled. _All they think about is food and sex. Doesn't matter _how_ sweet they seem at first, it all boils down to that. Goddamn pigs._

Her ears suddenly exploded with a high-pitched screech. With a shriek, she jumped, jerking like someone had just set a white-hot brand to her bare ass. Milk slopped out of the cereal bowl, drenching her pajama top and the T-shirt underneath.

"FUCKING HELL!!!" she roared, flinging the bowl to the side, which landed with a dull thud on the carpet. The remaining milk and cereal splattered across the floor, the couch, and the coffee table. Devi swore again when she realized that she had just given herself a bigger mess to clean up.

On her feet, staring sourly at her sopping pajamas, she realized that the phone was ringing. For a moment, she considered smashing the annoying machine to pieces, but then decided against it. It might be Mrs. Sununu, or someone else at Doppelganger.

Taking a deep breath, composing herself as much as she could, she reached down and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said, wincing at the amount of irritation that was still in her voice.

"Um," the person on the other end said, apparently taken aback by her gruff tone. "Hi, Devi."

"Oh…hi, Derek," she replied after a few seconds. _He's calling to apologize_, she thought, feeling the anger draining out of her. _He wants to say he's sorry._

"So…how are you doing this morning?" he asked.

"I've been better," she answered, though she left it at that. She didn't think he needed her to elaborate.

"Mm. Well, I guess I should just cut right to the chase. About last night…"

"Yes…?"

"Did I hit you up at the wrong time of the month, or what? 'Cause, seriously, I don't know _what_ I did to piss you off so much."

Devi blinked. "…huh?"

"Look, if you're on your period, all you had to do was say so."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" She suddenly had the strange sensation that she was dreaming. There could be no other plausible explanation for this.

"Don't tell me I just dreamed it up," Derek said. There was a definite smile in his voice, as if he found Devi's confusion funny.

"Derek, I'm not on my period!" she almost yelled into the phone. "That's not why I walked out last night! You're _completely_ missing the point!"

"So, what is the point?"

"The point is that _I don't want to have sex yet_! If you want to get into my pants, then you're going to have to have the _decency_ to wait until I'm open to the idea!"

"And when is _that_ going to be?" Derek didn't sound so amused anymore. He was starting to sound annoyed.

"Like I told you last night, _I don't know_. Sex is _really_ not attractive to me right now. It's a problem I'm going to have to work through by myself before I even _think_ about sleeping with anybody. I'm sorry, but this topic is _not_ open for discussion."

"What are you, the Virgin of Steel, or something?"

Devi sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not a virgin, Derek," she said through her teeth, "and that's not the issue here."

"Then what _is_ the issue?" he asked, sounding downright irritated now. "Did Mami and Papi find out that their little angel was sleeping around? Did they feed you the 'You're going to Hell if you don't wait till marriage' bit? You don't really believe that shit, do you?"

Devi's jaw tightened at the obvious jab at her Catholic Mexican heritage. She was a born and bred American, and she hadn't gone to church since she was twelve, but she bristled at the undisguised insult to her origins. However, she managed to rein in her indignation and stay on topic.

"It has nothing to do with what anybody has _told_ me, Derek," she said, her voice hard. "I don't give a shit about what my parents think, what the priests think, or what God himself thinks. This is _my_ choice. I do _not_ feel comfortable getting that close to _anyone_ right now, and until I work through it on my own, you're going to have to keep your dick to yourself. And if you find that _so_ hard to do, then you can go get your pussy elsewhere."

"Wait a minute. Are you breaking up with me?"

"I don't know," Devi replied acidly. "Should I? The idea has been sounding better and better throughout this whole conversation."

"Jesus, girl, you really need to get laid," Derek all but snapped. "One good fuck and you'll be feeling a whole lot more open to sex, believe me."

"I can't believe you think saying these things will get me to change my mind!" Devi bit back.

"Count yourself lucky that I'm even making the effort, _sweetheart_," he said. "No _wonder_ all your relationships before me were shit. Most men wouldn't give a bitch like you a second _look_, much less a second date."

Devi was deathly still. Her face had gone blank, but her eyes were blazing. "Well," she said after a heavy silence, "thank you for the effort, Derek. I can see clearly now, thanks to you."

"There, see?" he said, a smile in his voice again. "I knew you'd come around."

"Forget about picking me up to go to the art museum next week."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"What do you _think_ I mean? I'm not going."

"But—"

"And another thing," she cut him off, "don't ever call me again."

"What the fuck are you saying?!" Derek's voice was a mixture of disbelief and anger. He had already proven that he wasn't the kind of guy to take rejection gracefully. Now was obviously no exception.

"Goodbye, Derek," Devi said, her voice cold as ice.

"Now wait one god-damn min—"

_Click._

Devi stared down at the phone for almost a full minute after hanging up. Her sweet, considerate boyfriend had revealed himself to be a chauvinistic, patronizing asshole. Less than a day ago, she had been happy with the relationship, with no reason in the world to break up with him. Now, she had more or less told him to go fuck himself, and she once again found herself back at square one. She clenched her teeth so hard, she felt her jaw creak.

Finally, she brought her hand to her face and collapsed back down to the couch with a long, deep sigh. Drawing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around them and hung her head, her hair obscuring her face.

There goes another relationship down the drain…

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Woohoo! IT'S FINALLY DONE!!! I've had this chapter in mind since the very beginning, and now, more than six months after starting this story, I finally have it written. Booyah.

So, how do you guys think I did on this chapter? Was it worth the wait? Was it better, worse, or just as good as you expected? Did the first scene end too abruptly? Does the second scene seem pointless? Was Derek's turnaround too drastic? As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to leave a review. We've finally arrived at a major crux in the story, and I would love to know how you guys think I handled it.

P.S. As far as I know, JV never specified where Devi's family is from, but since her dad called her "mija" in a flashback, it's safe to assume she's Hispanic. I picked Mexico simply because that's where the majority of Hispanic-Americans are from. As for making her family Catholic, I've heard that Catholicism is the dominant religion in Mexico. If I'm wrong, I apologize. It really doesn't matter where she's from or what religion she was raised by. I just figured I should explain the "Catholic Mexican heritage" comment. It's not a canon detail by a long shot, so don't take it as such.


	12. Salsa con queso

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Blarg. Sorry about being so late with this chapter. I don't really have any excuses for it being over a month since the last update. I haven't been _that_ busy. I guess you can chalk it all up to laziness, unfortunately. My apologies.

Anyway, bunches of thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, thesupernugget, Invader Sideos, Mrs. Terwilliger, DoubtingSalmon, desdemona kakalose, GuesssWho, JuleWooster, CrushonDib, Tagi-sama, khaosfire, phx88gir, M ii K U r U, Miscellaneous Penguin, and BelleM312 for reading and reviewing chapter eleven! I think BelleM312 actually reviewed chapter ten, but whatever. I'd like to announce that MP has the distinction of leaving the 100th review on "My Immortal". Thanks, hon!

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Twelve: Salsa con queso**

Devi stepped back to scrutinize her work. It was coming up on seven o'clock in the evening, and she had been working on the Doppelganger project all day. Conceptual sketches littered the floor in her living room, and two new paintings were currently propped up on the couch, drying. To unwind after such a long day, she was doing a little personal painting, letting her imagination guide her brush over the canvas.

The image materializing before her eyes was a cityscape. Tall, narrow buildings reached up to touch the sky like concrete fingers on some massive hand. It was a simple painting, and she was satisfied with how it was going.

It had been two days since she had broken up with Derek. She had stewed for most of the day of their last phone call, huffing angrily around her apartment, wanting to break something. The next morning, she had thrown herself into her work, intent on distracting herself from thinking about that man, pouring all her frustration and anger into her paints and inks. Today, she had done the same thing, only she was aware that her feelings of irritation had greatly diminished. Now, it was as if her need to work hard was because she had been set free of something confining, like a flood of creativity was being let loose after being bound up for a long time.

_It's not like it was a bad relationship, though_, she thought, _nor was it a long one. The way I feel, you'd think I had just gotten out of months or years of an abusive marriage, or something._ Rinsing her brush in a jar of water, she coated the bristles with a new pigment and continued on with her painting. _Lord knows what women who _do_ get out of relationships like that must feel like once they're free._

She figured it was something else that was making her feel so unfettered. Her relationship with Derek was only a few weeks long, and for the most part had been very good. It was the revelation that he expected her to drop her panties for him on their third date, and his behavior upon being rejected, that had ended it. That alone was enough to cast a shadow upon their previous interactions, making them seem a little less perfect, but it was hardly sufficient to make her think the relationship was in fact a bad one.

After thinking about it over breakfast this morning, she had come to the conclusion that it was the _way_ it had ended that was making her feel so relieved. Though it was a shame that something that had seemed so positive had ended so badly, the fact remained that this was the first relationship she had had in years that hadn't ended in absolute disaster. Her boyfriend hadn't driven their car into a tree while trying to feel her up, or shat his pants in the middle of a restaurant, or attempted to slice her throat wide open, or chomped the brains out of an immigrant waiter. The deal-breaker was her realizing an incompatible difference between her and Derek. She had walked out on him willingly, making a conscious choice. She could have buckled under his coercions and stayed with him despite her own feelings, but she didn't. Their relationship was over because she had made a choice, not because she had no other option open to her.

_That must be what's making me feel so liberated_, she thought, painting in a row of streetlamps. _I'm single again by my own choice, not because I found out I was dating some monster or freak._ She bit her bottom lip as she looked over the painting again, wondering what else she could add to it. After a moment, she lowered her brush and looked away, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

"Maybe it's not so bad being alone," she murmured aloud. "Maybe I should stop pining after companionship and just enjoy life on my own. It's not like the dating game is getting me any satisfaction."

Sighing softly through her nose, she took another good look at the painting. After a moment, she put her brush and palette down, deciding she had done enough with it. Anything more would just clutter up the canvas and ruin the effect.

Exiting the drawing room, she crossed her arms above her head and stretched, arching backwards as she did so, feeling her spine pop in two places. Leaning toward the canvas or hunching over her sketchpad weren't exactly easy on her backbone after a while. After straightening up, she flexed her hands, loosening up the tendons that had been clenched for so long around paintbrush, pen, and palette. Painting was her greatest joy, but she was the first to admit that it could really cramp you up if done for several hours at a time, like she had done yesterday and today.

_Tonight feels like a movie night_, she thought, rolling her head back and forth on her neck. _Something by Mike Leigh.__ Yeah, that's it. With cheesy nachos. Con carne._

Her mother had taught her how to make several signature Mexican dishes when she was a girl, as well as several American recipes. Her parents had been adamant about integrating into the American culture, and insisted that their American-born daughter should be no different than children with non-immigrant parents, yet it was also important to them that they retain the rich culture of their birthplace. As a result, the culinary experiences of Devi's childhood had been a hodgepodge of Mexican and American cuisine. Her mother had taught herself how to "cook like an American" by using cookbooks and joining a cooking club, and Devi had often been involved in her mother's learning experiences. Though she hadn't nearly the knack for cooking as her mother had, and often ate out of boxes or cans now that she was on her own, she could whip up something presentable from scratch if she had to. One of her favorite things to make was American-style nachos with meat and cheese. The Super Nachos at Taco del Mar were pretty tasty, but nothing came close to her mami's version of the recipe.

_Damn it_, she thought as she looked into her fridge, _I don't have enough cheese._ Closing the door, she straightened up and went over to the cupboards. _Awww__, crap.__ No salsa con queso, either._

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she pouted at nothing for a moment. Nachos sounded really good right now. But now that she thought about it, she didn't have much in the way of tortilla chips, either. The bag on top of the fridge was almost empty, and the remaining chips inside were probably stale by now.

"I guess I gotta go get some," she muttered, walking out of the kitchen to grab her coat. There was a 24-7 store a few blocks from the apartment building, and it wasn't late by any means. She could walk down there and be back in about half an hour.

The red sky had faded to a light purplish-grey color, and she felt a cool breeze on her face as she stepped out of the building. It had been a warm day, promising a mild night. She could have in fact left her coat at home, yet she didn't turn around to leave it behind. If she got too warm on the way to or from the convenience store, she could just take it off and carry it.

Sticking her hands into her pockets as she walked, she tilted her face up and surveyed the darkening sky. A few stars were already peeking through the waning veil of sunlight, twinkling faintly in the vast, largely cloudless sky.

_Nny likes to watch the stars_, she mused fleetingly, but pushed the thought away before she could fully realize it. He was the last person in the world she wanted to think about.

Instead, her thoughts settled on her brief relationship with Derek O'Farrell. She still couldn't believe the suddenness of his change in attitude. It was like someone else had been trying to wheedle her into sex, a stranger masquerading in her boyfriend's skin. You'd think that, if softening her up for sex was his main objective, there would have been signs. _Something_ would have snuck through his amicable façade to let her know that he wasn't quite the awesome guy she thought he was. Or had there indeed been signs, and she had just been too enamored with him to notice? It's a known fact that people tend to overlook the flaws of the person they love, and though that's often good for the solidarity of a relationship, it could be taken way overboard. She wasn't going to deny that she had indeed been starting to fall in love with Derek, so perhaps her brain just chose to ignore any negative feelings coming from him.

But was that enough to explain how she had been so blindsided by his attempt to get into her pants? She doubted it. It was highly likely that he had been at least partially putting on a show for her, intending to lull her into complacency. Perhaps he hadn't been entirely aware that he had been doing it, but that didn't change the fact that she felt lied to. She despised anyone who, consciously or unconsciously, put on an act to fool people into thinking they're something they're not. It was a disgusting practice, and she refused to play along with it in any way, shape, or form.

_I bet he's one of those men who think they understand women_, she thought, scowling up at the sky. _They think that giving us a little of what we want is enough to make us receptive, that playing the "sensitive boyfriend" will get us to jump right onto their dicks after a few dates. They think we're stupid enough to knuckle under to emotional manipulation and spread our legs for them. They play us like fiddles, then dump us as soon as a better piece of ass comes along. "Oh, you were nice to me a few times, so of _course_ I'll let you fuck me!" Bullshit. How vapid do they think we are?!_

Devi clenched her jaw. Unfortunately, there were enough women in the world who were shallow enough to perpetuate the male idea that playing nice for a little while is all that's necessary to get a woman to fall on her back. Enough women were so vacuous and flaky as to lend support to the idea that _all_ females were like that. In some respects, America had come so far in women's rights and sexual equality, and yet in other respects, the country was no less chauvinistic than it was fifty or sixty years ago. It all boiled down to the religiously-founded idea that women were subordinate to men. The biggest reason Devi hadn't gone to church in over ten years was just that. She was sick of the sexist undertones that permeated just about every sermon the priests gave, and refused to suppress her own beliefs and self-respect just to make people think she was a "good girl". Her parents hadn't been too thrilled when she, not even thirteen years old, had steadfastly insisted that she was not going to attend church anymore, but after a few weeks of fighting over it, they had relented and let her do as she pleased. Her mother hadn't spoken to her for a few days after that, but eventually things had gone back to the way they were before. Devi just stayed home on Sundays rather than going with her parents to worship.

_Women who stand up for themselves and assert their rights are automatically labeled bitches and dykes. It makes me sick._ Instead of being respected as intelligent, independent human beings, self-sufficient women were stereotyped as morally corrupt and censured. This in a society that supposedly championed women's rights.

Devi's indignant musings broke off as she realized that she had arrived at her destination. The 24-7 sign was glowing in the waning light, and the front door was propped open to let the cool air inside. She could see a few people inside among the aisles, and a young woman was standing behind the counter, leaning on her elbows as she read a magazine that lay open on the linoleum countertop in front of her. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail at the top of her head, and she was sucking on a lollypop, the stick dangling out of her mouth. Devi was reminded of the giggly bunch of roller girls at her old high school.

Walking inside the convenience store, she nodded and gave a half smile to the clerk, whom she had seen many times before. They didn't know each other's name, and only ever saw each other when Devi came into the store, but they knew each other by sight, and sometimes chatted a bit as the girl rang up Devi's purchase. She turned into the snack aisle to the left of the front door, knowing exactly what she wanted.

_I'll just heat up some cheesy salsa instead of making the sauce myself_, she thought, plucking a jar of the stuff off the shelf. _It'll save me some time._ In almost the same movement, she snagged a large bag of white-corn tortilla chips and turned toward the end of the aisle to go pay for her stuff. Rounding the endcap, she strode in the direction of the Brainfreezy machine that lay between her and the front counter…

…and suddenly found herself face to face with the man of her nightmares.

"_JOHNNY C!!!_" she shrieked, making the skinny man in front of her stagger backwards in shock and everyone else in the store look at them in alarm.

"D-D-Devi!" Johnny stammered, clutching the empty Freezy cup in his hand so tightly he crushed it. "W-what are you doing here?!" His already large eyes were absolute huge in terror, and he looked ready to bolt at any second.

"What are _you_ doing here?!" Devi fired back, feeling a sharp urge to fling the jar of salsa at his head. "Are you stalking me again, you demented fuck?!"

"I always come here!" Johnny almost whined, as if stung by her accusation. "I didn't know you came here, too! I'm not following you, I swear!"

"GET!" she shouted, taking a threatening step toward him. "Get out of here before I shove my fist down your fucking throat!"

Johnny didn't hesitate even half a second. He turned and fled the store in an instant, his long coat trailing along behind him. The crumpled Freezy cup had fallen on the floor where he had been standing, and she kicked it after him with a vicious snarl.

After a moment of staring venomously at the open door, Devi realized that everyone in the store was staring at her. She blinked a few times, looking around at several astonished faces. Her cheeks warmed considerably as she blushed in embarrassment.

_Real classy, Devi_, she thought, mentally kicking herself. _As if you don't have _enough_ people thinking you're a loony, you have to go all bat-shit on someone in public. Nice._

Several uncomfortable seconds later, she continued on up to the front counter and laid her chips and salsa down for the clerk to ring up.

"I hope you don't mind me saying," the clerk said warily after giving Devi the purchase total, "but that guy does come in here an awful lot, and he got here several minutes before you did. He was probably just as surprised to see you as you were to see him."

Devi looked at the clerk for a moment, then lowered her eyes and muttered something unintelligible as she handed her money over. As much as she loathed Johnny's very existence, she couldn't help but feel ashamed that she had exploded at him for no reason at all. The only thing she had succeeded in doing a few minutes ago was publicly humiliating them both. She had made herself look like a fool in front of almost a dozen people. Smart.

She grabbed her chips and salsa before the clerk could hand over her change and beat a hasty exit out of there. The inside of the store had become uncomfortably hot, and she welcomed the considerably cooler air outside. The gentle breeze somewhat calmed her still furiously blushing skin, and she promptly shed her coat and exposed her bare arms and midriff to the early evening air. Quickly tying the coat around her waist by the sleeves, she heaved a huge sigh and turned back toward home.

_God, you're an idiot_, she mentally growled. _Why couldn't you have handled that better?! You're not some hair-trigger lunatic, but now you _look_ like one! You goddamned retard!_ She honestly didn't know of any other way she _could_ have handled suddenly encountering Johnny, but that wasn't the point. The point was she was pissed at herself, and wished she could kick herself in the ass for being such an impulsive moron. She wasn't concerned about Johnny's feelings, of course. What she cared about was the fact that she had just thrown a temper tantrum in public. A few minutes ago, she had been angry about being labeled a bitch, but apparently that moniker wasn't entirely undeserved after all—

The world spun. Out of nowhere, a hand clamped around her upper arm and yanked her into an alleyway she had been walking past. A startled squeak escaped her throat before she was pushed roughly against the wall. She had reflexively clutched the chips and salsa to her chest, and she heard the chip bag rustle loudly, the pieces of hardened tortilla inside cracking into fragments under the sudden pressure. The jar of salsa was pressing hard into her left breast, and she realized another body was holding her captive against the alley's concrete wall.

She was being attacked. Oh, God, Johnny was trying to kill her again! Squirming madly, she managed to bring her knee up between her attacker's legs. It wasn't a square hit, and had less force behind it than she wanted, but it was enough to make the man grunt in surprise and back off. As she stumbled away from the wall, she realized that it was most definitely not Johnny C. who had pulled her into the alley. This man was over six feet tall and much bulkier than the emaciated knife-wielder.

"Derek!" she shouted indignantly when she got a good look at who had grabbed her. She had (stupidly) put him between herself and the alley's exit, and so she couldn't see much more of him than a silhouette against the slightly brighter light of the street. She recognized his outline as he towered over her, however.

"Hi there, Devi," he replied, much like he had many times over the phone. This time, however, there was no smile in his voice.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" she demanded, feeling her anger rising again. "I told you I didn't want to see you anymore!"

"No shit," he shot back, and she could hear the sneer lacing his voice. "I don't give a fuck about what _you_ want anymore! I gave you what you want, but you didn't give _me_ what _I_ want! You owe me, bitch!"

"I don't owe you a damn thing!" she snapped, clutching the chip bag and salsa jar tightly. "What, you take me on a few dates and that means I have to suck your cock? Bullshit! That's not what I signed up for, Derek!"

"Fuck you! You could use a good fuck! I'm the first man to offer you one, and you say _no_?! You stupid bitch! I'm not going to ignore my own needs just because you have a few hang-ups!"

"You're _needs_? Don't give me that 'I'm a man, I have needs!' bullshit! If you thought with your brain instead of with your dick, you wouldn't _have_ your little 'needs' problem, asshole!"

Derek balled his hands into fists, moving like he wanted to lunge at her. He stayed put, however, and merely spewed insults and curses at her through his clenched teeth.

"It's over, Derek," Devi said when the unintelligible tirade had subsided, her voice considerably calmer. "I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Now get out of my way. I'm going home."

"You'll go where I say you'll go, bitch!"

She blinked, momentarily taken aback by the brazen attempt to dominate her. Her face then melted into a look of pure hatred. "I'll go where _I_ say I'll go, you fucking shit! Now _move it!_"

She tried to go past him, but he shoved her backward, almost knocking her off her feet. The chips and salsa slipped from her grasp as she reflexively flailed her arms to regain her balance. The glass jar shattered as it hit the ground, splattering chunky yellow sauce over the damp, dirty pavement.

"SHIT!" Devi snarled. "Look what you did, you dumbass! I just _bought_ that!"

"Shut up, fucking bitch!" Derek practically howled back, coming forward and grabbing her upper arm again. He dragged her inexorably deeper into the alley, moving toward the other end, which opened out into the street on the other side of the block.

_Fuck, he's trying to take me somewhere!_ she thought frantically, her entire body kicking into fight-or-flight mode. "LET GO!" she shrieked, fighting wildly. "Let go, you fuck! _I'll rip your fucking throat out!!!_"

Derek suddenly stopped and turned toward her. He raised his fist, fully meaning to smash it down against Devi's face—

"_HEY YOU!!!_"

A sudden shout reverberated through the narrow alleyway, startling them both. It had come from behind them. Almost simultaneously, they looked back the way they had come, searching for the source of the cry.

Another shape materialized out of the growing darkness, stalking toward them. It was a man wearing a long coat, the heels of his boots clicking harshly against the rough pavement. His entire body was tense as a coiled spring, and as he came closer his facial features became discernable. Devi recognized him almost before she saw him. That face had haunted her nightmares for _months_…

"Nny!" she gasped, staring at him as if he had just sprung up out of the solid ground at her feet.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" Derek demanded, almost drowning out Devi's voice.

"What," Johnny growled, "is going on here?" His voice was low, dangerous. He seemed to ignore Devi, instead staring maliciously at the big man holding her captive. If looks could kill, Derek would have dropped dead on the spot.

"Who the hell _are_ you?!" Derek repeated, unsure of what to think. This scrawny man had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and the look in his eyes said that he wanted nothing more than to tear Derek limb from limb. The expression was almost comical on such a skinny bastard.

"That doesn't matter," Johnny said, his voice still hard and cold. "I heard a disturbance and came to see what it was. Now that I see what's going on," a long knife suddenly appeared in his hand, "I'm afraid I can't let you live any longer." He raised the knife, an unmistakable threat.

"Who is _this_ fag?!" Derek asked Devi incredulously. "Is he your _boyfriend_?! You gotta be fucking _kidding_ me!" He sounded absolutely appalled by the idea that Devi could choose a skinny-ass little freak over _him_.

"Let her go," Johnny said firmly before Devi could answer.

"Get out of here, cocksucker!" Derek growled. "I'll bash your fucking head in if you don't move it!"

"Let her _go_," Johnny said again, his thin fingers tightening on the knife's handle. He took a step toward them, his dark eyes flashing in rage.

"Fuck off!" Derek again started moving Devi toward the other end of the alley, though he kept his eyes on the knife in Johnny's hand.

"I SAID LET HER GO, YOU SHITFACED ASSHOLE!!!" Johnny roared, lunging forward. The knife came up, starlight glinting faintly along its deadly sharp edge, and then plunged toward Derek's chest. The thin man hadn't been joking. He meant to kill.

Too quick to think, Derek shoved Devi between him and Johnny, shielding his body with hers. A terrified shriek was torn from the woman's throat as she found herself in the direct path of the lethal blade.

Johnny froze, a look of panicked horror twisting his features as he realized that he had come literally within an inch of stabbing into Devi's neck.

"Devi!" he gasped, on the verge of hyperventilating. Adrenaline, rage, and shock was screaming through his system, frying his nerves and almost blinding him in their intensity.

Before he could pull the knife away from Devi's throat, Derek's big hand gripped his spiky hair and smashed his head against the concrete wall. A sickening _crack_ echoed through the alley, and Johnny lurched violently away from the wall upon being released, dropping the knife with an empty clatter. He clutched at his temple and forehead, giving a choked cry. Blood was running down his face, and he staggered, quickly losing his balance.

"Nny!" Devi screamed, icy horror bursting into her chest as she saw and heard his head connect with the unforgiving concrete. "NNY!" she cried again as he lost his balance entirely, falling limply to the ground with a raspy groan. His eyes were glazed, the pupils dilating hugely. After a particularly harsh spasm, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he lay still.

Too still.

Devi gave a strangled cry. "Oh, God! Nny!"

"Come on, slut," Derek hissed, jerking on her arm. "We're gonna have a good time tonight."

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, YOU FUCK?!" Devi shrieked, striking out at his face, trying to claw his eyes out. Apoplectic rage had exploded in her brain. All she knew was an overwhelming urge to tear this fucker apart from the inside out.

Derek didn't say a word. He grabbed her hair roughly and yanked her down the length of the alley, not caring whether she kept her footing or not. He was hell-bent on _something_, and no amount of screaming or flailing was about to deter him from it. Devi's struggles had about as much affect on him as a butterfly beating its wings against the snout of a bear. She was no weakling, not by a long shot, but the big man seemed to hardly even notice her thrashing about.

"Let me go!" she howled, resisting all she could. "_Let me go, goddamn you!_ Shit! Nny! _NNY!_"

Johnny didn't move, his still form disappearing into the darkness as she was dragged away.

"_JOHNNY!!!!!_"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Finally! This chapter's done! Like chapter eleven, I've had this chapter in mind since the beginning, and it really feels good to finally get it written. I hope it has the impact I meant for it to have. We're on the cusp of the climax, and I would hate for it to be anything less than exciting. Do you think it was worth the wait? I certainly hope so.

One question I have for you guys: I'm not writing Derek like your stereotypical muscleheaded antagonist, am I? Y'know, the kind of testosterone-fueled moron who's more stupid and narcissistic than threatening. I really hope I'm not. The last thing I want is a villain who can't be taken seriously. Yeah, he thinks with his cock rather than with his brain, but I hope he's not like that to the point of parody. So, am I writing Derek convincingly? Be brutally honest with me.

I really don't know where the drabble about Devi's parents' attitudes toward Mexican and American culture came from. I just let my fingers do the typing, and that's what came out. It's not too extraneous, is it?

The rant about sexual equality and relations between the sexes also took on a life of its own. Please note that I am _not_ anti-male, and I am _not_ saying that all men have their brains below their belts. However, I've observed human behavior long enough to know that there are some men out there who are indeed that shallow. There are also some women out there who are as moronic and empty-headed as the ones described in that rant, but I am most definitely not anti-female, either. Besides, Devi has had a lot of pretty negative experiences with people all her life, so she's bound to have rather cynical, pessimistic opinions about the human race in general. Just think of Devi's thoughts on men and women to be my own viewpoint on the subject taken to the extreme. If you thought her internal rant went on too long or was too wordy, I apologize. I just don't want to take anything out, or I'll feel like it's missing something.

Aaaaanyway, please leave a review! The feedback so far has been lovely, and I hope I've continued to entertain you all with chapter twelve. "My Immortal" is getting closer and closer to completion. The last thing we need is for it to lose its punch just when the action starts heating up. Please let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys!

See you all next time!


	13. Blut gerinnt auf dem Asphalt

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Once again, I am incredibly late in updating this story. I'm really sorry to have left you guys with a cliffhanger for so long. I've just been rather busy lately, so I haven't had much opportunity to do any writing. It's as frustrating for me as it is for you, believe me. I suppose, however, that I _could_ just be subconsciously making you guys wait for so long just to heighten the suspense. Bwaha.

Much thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, GuesssWho, DoubtingSalmon, Tagi-sama, thesupernugget, Invader Sideos, CoriOreo, kr0n, phx88gir, Miscellaneous Penguin, JuleWooster, desdemona kakalose, Dicyfer, CrushonDib, KitKatBarStory, TheHomicidalManiac777, and 123-321 for reading and reviewing chapter twelve! Thanks also to The Only Person Who Luvs Akito for reading and reviewing every single chapter in one day. I do appreciate you taking the time out of your day to do that. (BTW, you're not the only person who loves Akito. I think she's awesome.)

P.S. I've been on a _huge_ Rammstein kick for the past two months or so—plus I just happen to love the German language—so I decided on a whim to give this chapter a German title. After all, this story has chapter titles in Latin, Italian, and Spanish, so why not German? If you want to know what it means, find an online translator (or PM/email me). Anyone who can tell me where the phrase comes from gets a cookie.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Thirteen: Blut gerinnt auf dem Asphalt**

"Let go! _LET GO!!!_ I'll rip your fucking eyes out, god damn it!"

Devi braced her feet against the ground and all but threw herself backward, trying to break the iron-like grasp Derek had on her upper arm. He had let go of her hair and gripped her arm again, as having both arms free to beat him with made her a bit more trouble than he was willing to put up with. Devi was sure her skin was already bruised badly. He was holding tight enough to hurt, and her frantic thrashing about only increased the pain.

"Quit it!" Derek snarled, yanking especially hard.

Devi gave a half-pained, half-angered yell, almost falling to the ground as she was jerked forward. Pain shot up to her shoulder and down to her fingertips, making her eyes sting with threatening tears. Fuck, it was like he was trying to twist her arm off!

_Where is everybody?!_ she thought wildly, looking around in desperation. There was not a soul to be seen. It was like the people of the city had disappeared off the face of the Earth, leaving her and Derek alone in the vast concrete jungle. There was no one around to witness her abduction, no one even close enough to hear her shrieking.

It was her rotten luck again. There _had_ to be people around to at least hear what was going on, but nobody was doing anything to help. No one was bothering to help the screaming woman who was being dragged to god-knows-where, or even call the police to report the ongoing assault. Hell, the police wouldn't do anything even if people _were_ calling them.

_This is too much!_ she screamed inwardly, her mind reeling. _This is too fucking much! Does the world hate me so god-damn badly?!_

The toe of her boot caught in a crack in the pavement, and she fell with a yelp. Agony lanced through her as her arm was wrenched sharply, her knees banging painfully against the hard ground. Her vision was starting to swim, the beginnings of a headache pounding dully through her skull. The tension and adrenaline in her body were on the verge of overloading her already shredded nerves.

_Oh, God, please don't let me faint!_ she prayed fervently. If she passed out, she would be helpless to stop whatever Derek had planned for her. He could lock her away, kill her, rape her…a shiver of disgust rolled through her body as the latter flitted through her mind.

Derek grabbed her roughly by the nape, hauling her upright and shoving her in front of him. He was now pushing instead of pulling her, one hand gripping the back of her neck, the other still holding firmly to her upper arm.

Devi tried in vain to brace her feet again. The aged pavement had been worn smooth over time, and not even the deep treads of her boots were able to find a foothold. Instead, she was pushed inexorably forward, her feet sliding over the ground with a high-pitched scraping noise.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her voice shaking. She twisted violently, trying to break free.

Derek didn't answer. He just increased his pace a little more.

"I said, where are you taking me?!" she asked again, louder this time. Fear was starting to creep into her heart, its icy tendrils snaking through her bloodstream and overtaking the fury that had possessed her just a few moments ago. A cold knot was beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. She _had_ to get away!

Derek pushed her around a corner, and a huge building suddenly loomed up in front of them. Even in the growing darkness, she could see the extensive fire damage, black scorch-marks covering much of the outside surface. There were gaping holes here and there in the walls, the mortar between the old cinderblocks cracking and crumbling in the heat of the flames, bringing huge segments of the building crashing down.

She was staring at a burned-out warehouse. Derek was now herding her toward a set of large double-doors, twisted and half-melted by the fire that had once raged uncontrollably just on the other side of them. Above them, a charred smear of white paint was just barely visible. Words had once been inscribed there, identifying who had owned and operated the warehouse before it had been utterly destroyed.

As she was propelled irresistibly forward, her gaze flickered up to the almost unrecognizable letters. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized she could still read what they said. Even through the heavy burn marks, even though half the paint had been chipped or melted away, she was able to just barely make out the name of the building's former owner.

GLS Incorporated.

_This is where Derek works!_ she realized with a slight jolt. _Why the fuck is he bringing me here?!_

They had indeed come to the place where Derek worked. Though he had high ambitions to become a fulltime actor, he was employed here at the complex of warehouses owned by G. Lawrence Shipping as a security guard. He needed a job that paid enough to keep the bill collectors at bay while he worked on his acting career.

A few years ago, shortly before Derek was hired, a fire broke out in one of the buildings. The cause of the blaze was unknown, but it soon raged out of control, consuming everything inside. When fire crews finally managed to put it out, all that was left was the warehouse's charred skeleton. No survivors or salvageable merchandise were found inside. Luckily for GLS, less than half of the warehouse had been in use at the time of the fire, as it was the furthest building in the complex from the airport and therefore the least used. If one of the more frequently-used buildings had burned with the same intensity, it would have been a huge blow to the company.

No demolition attempts had been made. The warehouse had simply been abandoned. Here it still stood, a huge blackened eyesore, just another blemish on the city's already ugly face. Parts of it had fallen in over the past few years. Sooner or later, the whole building would collapse under its own weight.

All of this flitted through Devi's mind in the space of an instant as she was shoved toward the decaying building. Derek had twisted her arm painfully behind her back as he pushed her forward, her hand and fingers slowly going numb from lack of blood.

"What the fuck are we doing here?!" she demanded as he kicked the doors open and hauled her through into the building's interior. Her voice was weaker than she intended, sounding more like a plea than a command. She inwardly cringed.

Derek closed the doors in much the same way he had opened them, plunging them both into darkness. Silvery moonlight shown through the holes and gaps in the walls, but it was hardly enough to adequately illuminate the place. There was no way to tell just how big the inside of the warehouse was. All Devi was able to make of it was a confusing maze of light patches meandering through the almost total darkness.

"I already told you, sweetheart," Derek replied, unmistakable malice in his voice. "We're gonna have a good time tonight."

"Bull-fucking-_shit_!" Devi gritted, again struggling as much as her aching body would allow. She shoved herself backwards, trying to throw Derek off balance, but all she managed to do was make him grunt in surprise and tighten his grip on her arm and neck. Her arm was now almost completely numb, deep cold settling in her hand and fingers. Realization of this only made her fight harder. Fucking hell, that was her _painting hand_! No way in _hell_ was she going to lose the use of it!

Her right heel suddenly came down on the end of a broken piece of wood. It was lying across a chunk of slag like a seesaw, and the impact of her foot made the other end of it swing upward. Sharp splinters pierced through the fabric of Derek's pants, digging into his shin as he brought his leg forward to steady himself against the flailing woman in his grasp. With a cry of surprise and pain, he stumbled.

With a colossal effort, Devi wrenched herself free from Derek's suddenly loosened grip. Her numbed arm immediately fell limp at her side, utterly useless. She barely allowed herself to take notice, however. She poured all of her concentration into simply running. She had to get _away_ at all costs. Derek was directly between her and the doors they had come through, so her only choice was to run into the vast, unknown warehouse.

_Fuck, I'm gonna get myself lost!_ she screamed internally. Every step was hindered by broken and burned debris. She both heard and felt little tears being ripped into her pants as they snagged on wood, glass, metal, and whatever else was littering the huge, burned-out room. Twice she fell, nearly cracking her head on the hard cement floor. It felt like every inch of her skin had been cut and/or bruised…

A hand suddenly snared the back of her shirt, jerking her backwards. A scream erupted from her throat, and the dimly-lit world spun violently. She was slung roughly to the floor, the air knocked out of her lungs on impact. She lay there for a few seconds, stunned and struggling for breath, her vision slowly coming back into focus. The ceiling above her was mostly gone, stars twinkling serenely up in the purple-black sky. The vast plane of a wall rose up to her left, a large patch of moonlight splashed across it and the floor directly adjacent to it.

Derek's unmistakable silhouette came into her field of vision, towering above her. Even in the incomplete light, she could see he was shaking in rage. She tried to push herself up, but before she could do more than brace her good hand against the floor, he leaned down and fisted his fingers in the front of her shirt, dragging her upwards. He lifted her until their eyes were level with each other, her feet dangling several inches off the ground. Wordlessly, he carried her over to the wall and slammed her back against it.

"You're pushing your luck, bitch," he snarled. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you won't be able to _walk_ when I'm done with you!"

A white-hot spear pierced her gut as she heard those words. He _did_ mean to rape her. Anger burned through her veins at the realization. Words could not describe the rage she felt as the full weight of his intention hit her. She hadn't given him what he wanted, so he was going to just take it. This fucking shit was going _force_ her to have sex with him!

"Like hell you are!" she hissed, her eyes narrowing dangerously. They could see each other clearly now, the blindingly white moon shining down on them.

"I don't think you have much say in this, my dear," he replied, his voice eerily calm now.

Pins and needles were burning in her hand and arm, the area where he had gripped her aching dully as the bruises blossomed black and purple. With her good hand, she grabbed the wrist of the hand he was holding her up with, her nails digging into the skin. "You will not _touch_ me!" she ground out, green fire flashing in her eyes.

Pain suddenly flared up in her right breast. His other hand had pushed up under her shirt, squeezing her roughly through her bra.

"OW!!!" she shrieked, trying to kick him. "_Stop it!_"

"Just relax," he said, leaning in close, nuzzling her neck. "Cooperate, and I'll take it easy on you."

Devi's angered retort died in her throat, a wave of revulsion washing through her as she felt a hot, wet tongue against her neck. She fought back the urge to vomit as it traveled slowly up to her ear, leaving a burning path in its wake. A tear born of both fear and rage squeezed past her eyelashes, sliding down over the chilled skin of her cheek.

The sound of ripping cloth suddenly reached her ears. She heard another noise almost simultaneously, and she was bizarrely reminded of her mami cutting through the joints of a chicken leg as she sheared the meat off the brittle bones.

Derek stiffened up in one instant and fell in the next, yelling as if he had just been mortally wounded. Devi yelped as she unexpectedly dropped, her feet hitting the cement floor awkwardly. Her legs buckled, and she landed on her hands and knees, just barely keeping herself from falling completely to the ground.

"You…" a strangled voice snarled above them, absolute fury nearly choking the words off. "You…! _You SCUM!!!_"

Devi's blood froze in her veins. That voice was unlike anything she had ever heard before, and yet horrifyingly familiar at the same time. A scream of terror welled up in her throat, but she managed to keep it contained. Shaking uncontrollably, she forced herself to look up to where the voice had come from.

Johnny C. stood there, a look of apoplectic rage twisting his thin features. His face and collar were stained with his own blood, which oozed slowly from a jagged cut high up on his forehead. A hooked knife was clutched in his white-knuckled hand, more blood dripping off the curved tip to the floor.

Derek was still on the ground, spitting curses and trying to stand. Finally, Devi realized that Johnny had sliced through the backs of Derek's knees, severing the tendons and rendering his legs completely useless.

"Nny!" she gasped, unable to believe what she was seeing. Just seconds ago, she had thought he was lying unconscious—maybe dead—on the cement floor of some dank alleyway, and yet here he was, standing over her and Derek, looking for all the world like a man ready to tear someone's throat out with his own teeth.

Quick as a cat, he grabbed her arm—thankfully the uninjured one—and pulled her forcibly over Derek's prone form. He unceremoniously shoved her behind him, putting himself between her and her assailant.

"Run, Devi," he said without looking at her. "Get out of here. Now." Cold intent now laced his words, his dark brown eyes staring daggers at the man he had just brutally lamed.

"Nny…!"

"I said to run," he interrupted her. "Leave this place."

"What are you going to—"

"_I said __**run**__, damn it!_" Johnny had turned to yell the words at her, but whipped back around as a hand suddenly gripped his leg. Derek had managed to sit up, and was trying to throw Johnny off balance. Johnny smashed the sole of his boot against the other man's face with a roar, breaking his nose and slamming him back down to the hard, cold floor of the warehouse.

Devi squeaked, reflexively scrambling away. Her heel caught on some charred debris, and she tumbled to the ground with a thump.

"STAY DOWN!" Johnny screamed furiously. "YOU MOTHERFUCKING SHIT! HOW _DARE_ YOU TOUCH HER?! I'LL CHOP YOUR FUCKING BALLS OFF, YOU _FUCK_!" Raising the knife in his hand, he crouched down and reached unmistakably for Derek's crotch.

_Oh, God, he wouldn't…!_ Devi thought in disbelief, her jaw dropping. Not even Johnny could be that cruel! He couldn't possibly…! Her disbelief turned to shocked horror as Johnny's knife slashed the front of Derek's pants open. She covered her eyes and turned away, unable to watch.

Derek's shriek of agony echoed throughout the warehouse. The horrible sound pierced Devi to her core, bile rising in her throat as she realized what had just happened. God above, she didn't think even Johnny would go so far!

"YOU LIKE THAT?!" the thin man howled, drawing her attention back to him. She looked at him just as he threw the severed flesh to the side with a shudder, repulsed by the feel of it. "YOU WANT MORE?! I'LL GIVE YOU MORE! OH, _FUCK_ YES, I'LL GIVE YOU MORE!"

_Watch, Devi_, she told herself, fixing her wide eyes on the scene before her. _He's doing this for you. The least you can do is watch. Watch that bastard get what he deserves!_

Johnny dropped the hooked knife, extracting two straight-edged ones from his coat. In the same motion, he stabbed the knives downward, skewering Derek's hands and pinning them to the floor.

"HOW DARE YOU PUT YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON HER?!" Johnny raged, twisting the knives cruelly. He seemed spurred on by the sound of Derek's screams, savage pleasure starting to spark behind his eyes. He was utterly insane now, blinded by his anger, practically spitting venom as he tormented his victim.

"YOU'RE LOWER THAN _SHIT_, YOU KNOW THAT?! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO EVEN _LOOK_ AT HER! HEY, Y'KNOW WHAT?! I'LL MAKE IT SO YOU CAN'T LOOK AT _ANYTHING_!" He grabbed up the hooked knife again, pulling one just like it out of his coat at the same time. With one fluid motion, he slashed the knives downward, burying the hooked ends in Derek's eye sockets.

Devi swallowed hard, fighting back her gag reflex. She would roll her eyes at the absurdity of the over-the-top gore in even the most violent slasher flicks, but this was no movie. This was real. Sickeningly, viciously real. And yet, she forced herself to keep watching. She didn't know what made her do it, but she kept her eyes glued to the two men. Her heart was hammering in her chest so hard, she feared her ribs might break, but she didn't dare look away.

Johnny's crazed screaming seemed to blur out, his words no longer intelligible. All she could focus on was the slow butchering of Derek O'Farrell. Nausea shot through her as she saw Johnny spear his tongue with another knife and rip it clear out of his mouth. She watched in sick horror as he flicked the hunk of meat off the end of the knife, moved off of the bigger man a little bit, and sliced his belly open from sternum to groin. Another slashing motion, and a second cut opened, forming a square cross over Derek's torso. Hesitating no more than if he had been digging the pulp out of a pumpkin, Johnny grasped the bloody edges of the cross and spread them wide, opening up Derek's body cavity. Devi was eternally grateful that she couldn't see inside from her angle. She had no doubt that she would have indeed vomited if she had been able to see the quivering, still-living organs. Her imagination was more than enough. She didn't need to see it for real.

Johnny's expression had gone from uncontrollable rage to quiet, cold fury. His words were no longer screamed at the top of his lungs, but growled out through gritted teeth. The pleasure was gone from his eyes, leaving behind only a deadly determination to exact revenge to its fullest degree upon this pathetic excuse for a human being. The passion had drained completely from the thin man, a chilling, sadistic malice taking its place.

"Look at you," Johnny said disdainfully, his words once again becoming clear to Devi's ears. "You're just another mindless sack of meat and slime, a walking mass of biological processes! How dare you call yourself human? You're a mockery of life, you filthy, stinking _animal_!" As he spoke, Johnny was slowly pulling Derek's intestines from his belly, forcibly extracting the pinkish-gray coils from his body inch by tortuous inch.

"Nny, stop it!" Devi whimpered, the words leaving her mouth before she even knew she was speaking. "That's enough! Please, just finish it!"

Johnny whipped his head around to look at her, shock settling in his eyes. It seemed he hadn't realized that she had not fled the scene like he had ordered her to. He sucked in his breath, horrified that she had just witnessed everything he had done. After a moment, he turned back to Derek and promptly slit the mutilated man's throat. Derek gave a jerk and a wet gurgle, then lay still.

Devi suddenly realized that she was crying. Hot, fat tears were streaming down her face, and she could barely contain her sobs. She was shaken to the core by the horror of what she had just seen, hysteria slowly building in the back of her throat.

Johnny fairly leaped over to her, falling to his knees in front of her and grabbing her shoulders.

"Are you all right?" he half-whispered, panic underlining his voice. "God, Devi, why did you stay?!"

The touch of his hands, the sound of his voice finally made Devi's composure crumble completely. With a strangled whine, she threw herself against him, clutching at him tighter than she had ever held anyone before. She sobbed uncontrollably into his bloodstained shirt, heedless of the gore that soaked the black fabric. Her thin body was shaking violently, her skin drained of all its color.

She was a wreck. A complete, uncompromised wreck.

"Why did you stay, Devi?" he asked her again, his own eyes stinging sharply. "Why didn't you leave when I told you to? I didn't want you to see any of that!"

"I-I…don't know!" she managed to choke out, trying in vain to stem the flood of her tears.

Johnny swallowed the lump in his throat, massaging her shoulders gently. It hurt him deeply to see her like this, the knowledge that he was the one responsible only adding salt to the wound. His desire to comfort her overrode his dislike of being touched, and he bit back any further questions. He just held her silently, letting her cry undisturbed. Unshed tears shone in his brown eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

"I'm sorry, Devi," he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm _so_ sorry…!"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Well, there you have it. Derek's finally gotten what he deserves. What did you think of it?

I don't have much to say about this chapter, because it mostly speaks for itself. I just hope I kept Nny in character. I mean, I couldn't just write a random fit of psychotic rage and expect it to be in character. Nny's uncontrollable rampages aren't just haphazard explosions, after all. They have an element to them that are distinctly "Nny", and I hope I captured that essence. As for Devi, I know I made her rather shrieky in this chapter, especially at the end, but I don't think it's OOC at all. I mean, consider what she's just witnessed. Even though it was an irredeemable asshole like Derek, she's just watched a living, breathing human get ripped apart. I think _anyone_ in her position would go a little hysterical, don't you?

Once again, I'm really sorry about being so über-late with this chapter. I'll try to be a little timelier with chapter fourteen. Just keep your fingers crossed, and know that I am incredibly appreciative of your guys' patience. It's a testament of how much you're enjoying this story, and it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to know that something I've written has garnered this much support. You guys are awesome.


	14. Tumble Dry Low

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

I think I should just change the update schedule for this fic from "every two weeks" to "whenever", especially now that the Christmas season is upon us. I'm sorry, you guys. I'm doing my best. Thanks for being so patient with me.

Many thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, DoubtingSalmon, thesupernugget, 123-321, KitKatBarStory, khaosfire, CoriOreo, phx88gir, Invader Sideos, Tagi-sama, GuesssWho, xcorezombie, The Only Person Who Luvz Akito, Mafis, kalilamae, desdemona kakalose, kr0n, Osuwarii, JuleWooster, and Miscellaneous Penguin for reading and reviewing chapter thirteen! I'm so glad you all liked it as much as you did. Hugs 'n' kisses, all.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Fourteen: Tumble Dry Low**

Devi ran her hairbrush slowly through her hair, letting the purple-pink strands slide soundlessly through the bristles. The feathery ends of her hair tickled her neck a little bit as they swayed gentle from side to side. Every once in a while, a stray droplet of water would fall to her shoulder or back, a tiny prick of cold in the otherwise warm bathroom.

The mirror in front of her was blurry. She had wiped the condensation from the shower steam off of it so she could see herself, but a thin sheen of moisture still clung to the smooth surface, distorting her reflection.

Setting the brush down on the edge of the sink, she looked down at the faucet. Rather, she looked through it, her gaze not focusing on anything in particular.

After her initial hysteria in the abandoned warehouse earlier that night, a numb feeling had descended upon her. She refused to let her mind replay the images of Derek's murder, forcing them down with sheer force of will. Though numb, she could still sense a shuddering vulnerability just beneath the surface, threatening to break through at any moment. Breathing deeply and steadily, she held onto her calmness as firmly as she could. It was too soon after the horrible ordeal. She knew she would have to face and come to terms with it eventually, but not now. She would rather forget it for the time being.

She looked toward the closed door, knowing that on the other side lay a short hallway, and then her living room. Her rational side was begging her not to go out there. Johnny was out there, and she was terrified of him. She was aware now of just how much brutality he possessed, and that only intensified her fear of the horrendously fucked-up young man.

_Why did you invite him in?_ she asked herself silently, wringing her hands nervously. _Why did you bring that monster into your home? He could attack you at any second. He could _kill _you at any second. Why did you let that _freak _into your one and only sanctuary?!_

She chewed at her bottom lip, a fleeting image of him bursting through the door and hacking her to pieces flashing across her mind's eye.

_It's because he saved you_, she answered herself after a few moments of silence. _He saved your dignity, and maybe even your life. He prevented that asshole from having his way with you, and he did it because he cares for you. The least you can do is show a little kindness in return._

Absently, she touched her chest over her heart, feeling the steady throbbing faintly through her ribs. Her hand slowly clenched into a loose fist, squeezing the soft fabric of her robe in her fingers.

_He cares for me_, she thought again. _Does he? Or am I just assuming that he does because he saved me? If he cares for me, why did he try to—_

She shook her head jerkily, shoving the thought away. She really didn't want to think about The Date right now.

Finally, after staring at her reflection for a few moments more, arguing with herself over whether it had been wise or not to bring Johnny into her apartment, she let out a long sigh and turned toward the closed and locked door.

Padding silently down the short hallway, her bare feet making no noise on the carpet as she walked, she hesitated for a moment before turning the corner. When she at last compelled herself to take those last couple of steps, bringing the living room into her line of sight, she stopped again almost immediately, coming to a halt just inside the doorway.

There was Johnny, sitting quietly on the couch. He had propped his feet up on the edge of the cushion, his arms wound loosely around his bent knees. His head was down, though she could still see his face. Slightly damp hair hung limply over his eyes, making his expression hard to read from Devi's angle. His boots stood on the carpet to his right, all of the blood cleaned off of the stiff, black leather. Johnny himself wore a plain grey pair of Devi's pajamas. As his clothes had been literally soaked through with blood and gore, Devi had insisted that he shower before her. He had protested, saying that it was her home, not his, but she had pushed, and he had finally relented. Their clothes were now in the wash, and Johnny had borrowed a pair of pajamas from Devi so he could stay decent. As the two of them were of the same height and more or less the same build, that hadn't been any problem. Now, he was just waiting to get his clothes back.

He raised his head after a moment, as if sensing her eyes on him. Briefly, their eyes met from across the room, and then Johnny averted his gaze again. Devi thought she saw nervousness glimmering in his dark eyes, the same nervousness she herself was feeling. That reassured her somewhat, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach diminish a little bit.

She slowly crossed the room, willing her feet to take her toward him. He didn't stir as she approached, but she knew he was aware of her movement.

Finally standing over him, she looked down upon his narrow frame. A jolt of pity shot through her as she realized just how painfully thin he was. Even through the pajama fabric, she could see his bones sharply protruding through his skin. If she wanted to, she'd be able to count his ribs and vertebrae even without him removing his shirt.

She had never seen anybody so emaciated, save for the old films she had viewed in history class of the prisoners starving to death in the Nazi concentration camps. It was as if sheer force of will was all that was keeping Johnny going. No one could possibly be that thin and still be able to move like he could.

She sat down next to him, careful to keep a noticeable distance between them. She threaded her fingers together and rested her hands in her lap, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of her.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

"Hi," she finally said, her voice sounding weak and scratchy even in her own ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lift his hand and run his fingers through his spiky black hair. He didn't immediately answer, but then responded in kind, his voice just as quiet as hers had been.

"Hi."

Finally looking over at him, her eyes rested on the jagged cut just below his hairline. The area around it was badly swollen, and the cut itself was still an angry red. It was the place where his head had connected with the cement wall in the narrow alleyway.

"How did you recover so quickly?" she heard herself asking.

"Hm?"

"How did you recover so quickly from that concussion?" she asked again. She had this strange urge to reach out and touch the injured area, but she refrained.

"Oh," Johnny replied, gingerly touching his forehead just to the side of the goose-egg. "It's not as bad as it probably looks. It hurt like fuck and knocked me out, but it's nothing debilitating. I think I was unconscious for just a few minutes."

"Nny, you can't self-assess head injuries," Devi replied, looking directly at him now. "You have to go to a hospital and have them X-ray your skull. There are so many things that could be going wrong in there that you'd have no idea about."

"No," Johnny said simply. "I hate doctors."

"Nny, I'm serious. Some severe head injuries don't actually hit you until a while after they're inflicted. Your brain could suddenly shut down at any moment." It felt odd giving medical advice to someone she thought she wanted to see dead. She felt like she had to say it, however. He had taken that injury in her defense, so she felt partly responsible for it.

"I'm serious, too. I have enough people scrutinizing my outside every god-damn day. The last thing I need is someone poking around my insides, too." His voice sounded bitter and jaded. A lifetime of being picked on for his looks had taken its toll on him. It was likely that the thought of someone looking _inside_ him, even for medical purposes, scared him.

Devi sighed. "Nny…"

"I had a worse concussion after you smashed my head through the mirror that one night," Johnny interrupted. "If I could get through _that_ okay, I can get through this."

Devi rubbed her temples with her forefingers. She knew that a person's reaction to one concussion was almost never an accurate indicator of how they'd react to another, and she also knew that the outward appearance of head injuries could be vastly different than the actual extent of the damage. She wasn't in any mood for an argument, however, especially not with someone like Johnny C.

After several more minutes of silence, she asked another question that had been bugging her.

"How did you know where to find us? How did you know he'd take me to GLS Incorporated?"

"What, you didn't notice?" he answered, finally looking over at her. "He was in his work clothes. The name of the place was right there on his shirt. I'd be an idiot not to look there first." He faced forward again and put his feet on the floor. "I heard screaming coming from the abandoned warehouse as I got close. I figured that that's where you guys were." He shrugged. "I was right."

Devi nodded slowly. Truth be told, she _hadn't_ noticed that Derek had been wearing his work uniform. She had had more pressing things on her mind at the moment, such as getting away from her delusional ex-boyfriend. What he had chosen to wear while assaulting her hadn't even entered her thoughts.

"Idiot," Johnny snorted, sounding as if he were speaking to himself. "He was probably coming right from work when he caught you. Real smart idea, wearing work-issued clothing while attacking someone. It's like wearing a big sign around your neck saying _This_ _is where you can find me!_"

Devi nodded absently. It was probably the stupidest mistake Derek had ever made. It had led Johnny right to them, resulting in Derek's slow, agonizing death.

"Lucky thing he _was_ wearing his guard uniform, though," she found herself saying. "It allowed you to get there before anything bad could happen."

"Point," Johnny concurred with a slight tilt of his head. "Lucky for you; not so lucky for him." Perhaps Devi was imagining it, but it seemed that a hint of his old easy-going tone had crept back into his voice. Before she knew it, she found herself starting to smile.

_Oh my God_, she thought, her eyes going wide as her shock wiped the smile from her face. _It felt like we were back in the bookstore for a moment. Jesus, Devi, don't let your guard down so fast!_

"So…what have you been up to these past few months?" Johnny asked after another stretch of silence. There was a note of hesitation in his voice, as if he wasn't sure if she would welcome this topic of conversation or not. He glanced quickly over at her, but she didn't notice.

Devi took a deep breath through her nose. She had this strange feeling that she was standing up in front of class back in grade school, feeling all sixty eyes trained upon her as she was about to give an oral presentation. Swallowing, she shook off the feeling as best she could before she answered.

"Well, I'm not working at the bookstore anymore," she began, not looking at him. "I quit several months ago to work for Nerve Publishing as an illustrator. That…didn't go too well. I quit that job after a while, too. But then I got hired for the same thing by Doppelganger Press. They're so much easier to work for than Nerve, and I'm really liking my job there." She stopped for a moment, a flush of nervousness reddening her cheeks. "The first book I illustrated for them is due out next month. I…I really hope my work is received well."

"A graphic artist, hm?" he said quietly, again as if speaking to himself. "Doing what you love for a living."

She nodded. "Yeah."

She caught movement at the very edge of her vision, and she looked over. A small jolt of surprise buzzed through her when she found him looking at her, a thin, almost sad smile on his face.

"I know how much you wanted to be a professional artist, Devi," he said softly. "I'm really glad to hear that your dream is coming true. It…it means a lot to me to see you happy. You are happy, right?"

"Work-wise, yes," she replied. Her voice then dropped significantly in volume. "I still have plenty of shit on my plate, though."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Johnny said, just barely above a whisper.

"Don't be," she shrugged. "It's nothing for you to bother yourself over." She shifted in her seat, bringing her legs up and tucking them under herself. "Now, I've told you what's been going on in my life. What about yours?" A voice in the back of her head told her that she _really_ didn't want to know, but she felt compelled to ask anyway.

Johnny propped his feet up on the couch again, wound his arms around his legs, and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't suppose that you'll believe this, but…" He paused.

"I can believe some pretty fucked-up shit," Devi assured him, her tone almost wry. "With all I've been through, there's not much that would surprise me anymore."

Johnny chuckled briefly, closing his eyes. "All right, then. I died, when to Heaven, got kicked out of Heaven, went to Hell, got kicked out of Hell, and then finally came back home."

Devi stared dumbly at him. There wasn't much he could say that would surprise her, but _that_ was definitely one thing that could.

"You're serious," she managed to say after a moment. It was more a statement than a question. For some reason, she didn't think that this was just his deranged imagination. He just sounded too sure of himself.

"Well," he shrugged, "I suppose it could have been just a really fucked-up dream, but it sure as shit felt real. There was no place for me in Hell, the Devil said, so he sent me back home. I woke up in a pool of my own blood with most of my hair gone, and the bullet hole in my head was healed. I don't think I'd be alive right now if it had just been a dream."

"What do you mean, 'there's no place for you in Hell'? I thought Hell was supposed to be boundless, with endless capacity for new souls."

"It wasn't my time to die, I guess you could say. I expired prematurely because I was waste-lock, so I was sent back to live out the remainder of my life."

"You were a _waste-lock_?" Devi asked, totally confused by now. "What the hell is _that_?" She was looking at him as if she expected him to sprout another head at any moment.

Johnny chuckled again, but this time there was a hint of bitterness in the sound. "Oh, Lord, what a question…"

He told her everything he knew about waste-locks, everything he could remember of what the Devil had told him about the scattered individuals who, totally unaware, kept the balance between good and evil in the world. Almost in a whisper, he divulged the details behind their existence, from the role they played in the cosmic balance of things to the death and rebirth that awaited them at the end of their crucial task. With a slight tremor in his voice, he explained that he had been a poorly thought-out choice as a waste-lock, as he had apparently been quite unbalanced to begin with. However, he had unwittingly served his purpose, and had met the same fate as everyone else unfortunate enough to become such indispensable cogs in the universe's machine.

"It's why I was never successful at suicide until the very end," he finished. "My job wasn't over, so something was deliberately making me fail each and every time. It's also why I was never caught, even after slicing people up in the middle of the street in broad daylight. That same something was steering everyone who sought me out away from me, so I always got away with what I did." He looked at his boney hands. "Figures that such a 'talent' would come to someone with such…_interesting_…hobbies as myself."

Devi made no response at first. She just stared at her hands in her lap, feeling a dull chill spread through her insides. Something sinister was fluttering at the edge of her thoughts, something she was terrified to let herself acknowledge. This new information had sent a lance of fear and horror through her chest, and she refused to let herself fully realize what it meant.

_Oh my God_, she gasped internally. _Oh my God! This is…!_

"Devi," he said suddenly, cutting through her thoughts. "I don't expect you to believe this. I just have to say it, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, for all the pain I caused you. I never…I _never_ wanted to hurt you. If I could take it all back, I would do so in a heartbeat. It's been eating at me ever since that night, and I want you to know how much I regret what I did. I don't expect forgiveness. I just…I'm sorry."

She clenched her hands into fists, trying to still their shaking. The raw emotion in his voice, the overwhelming feeling that he was laying open his heart to her was staggering. Never before had she been spoken to with such quiet intensity, and it shook her to the core.

"Why did you do it?" she managed to ask, feeling bitterness creeping into her words. "If you care so much for me, why did you…?!" She bit her lip, unable to finish. She wanted to scream at him, to shake him until his teeth rattled, demand an explanation for why he had so gloriously fucked up what had been the best and most promising thing that had ever happened to her. All her resentment for him came bubbling up in that instant, and she didn't realize that she was biting her lip hard enough to bleed.

Johnny visibly flinched at the venom in her voice. "The Doughboys…they—"

"Doughboys," Devi repeated, her face suddenly blank. "You mentioned a Psycho-Doughboy to me before." For some inexplicable reason, that one word completely changed her demeanor. As if someone had flipped a switch, all the anger had drained from her, replaced by an unexplainable urgency to find out just what the hell these "Doughboys" were.

"Him and Mr. Eff," Johnny nodded, looking confused. "There were two of them. They…talked to me." He _had_ mentioned D-boy to Devi before, yet only once, and it had been in passing. He was surprised she even remembered it.

"You mean…voices in your head," Devi clarified, more for herself than for Johnny.

"Just at first," Johnny said, a note of dread appearing in his already strained voice. "It…it seems that the emotional waste that I was keeping locked up had been fermenting in its prison for so long, that it grew a consciousness of its own. It wanted out of there. It seized hold of my inner voices and…took them away from me. They were no longer mine. They became extensions of the _thing_ living in my wall. They kept talking and talking and talking…telling me to do things, to kill myself, to kill others. They were constantly arguing with each other, and with me, pulling me in two different directions. Eventually, they could even _move_ on their own."

Devi stared at him, wide-eyed. A faint, scratchy voice crept unbidden into her thoughts, whispering words that still sent a chill down her spine, even this many months after she had last heard the hated voice.

_Your friend thought he could fight, too, and he ended up introducing us to you._

And then, even louder:

_When you're with us, you don't have to worry about almost anything. We take care of you, protect you. You can walk through this world like you're a god, without fear, without damage. You can do whatever you want. Anything. Even kill. Now, doesn't _that _sound nice?_

"They were using you to become real," she found herself saying, "draining you of your creative force, your personality, your memories…everything. You were just a means to an end, an energy source for them to draw upon at their leisure." _Just like Sickness…those Doughboys were _just _like Sickness!_

Johnny gaped at her, a look of utter shock on his face. "How do you…how do you know that…?" he managed to choke out, no small amount of horror in his voice.

"Because I went through the same thing," she said, pity in her green eyes. "An offshoot of the thing that had a hold of you latched onto me…through my contact with you. I fought it, and managed to defeat it, but God it was hard. It came within a hair's breadth of becoming truly real before I could finally put it down. It literally made me _sick_ when I realized that you had experienced the same thing, only a hundred times stronger. I just couldn't imagine going through what you did. I still can't."

"You…you know," Johnny muttered numbly, looking away.

Devi nodded. "I know."

"And it's…because of _me_?"

"Please, don't blame yourself, Nny." It felt odd saying those words. She herself had resented him deeply for exposing her to such a menace, however unwittingly. It just seemed like the right thing to say, though.

Johnny's thin hands closed into fists in his lap. His already large eyes were as wide as they could possibly get, and Devi could faintly hear his teeth chattering behind his closed lips. She saw as well as heard him swallow, and flinched slightly at how painful it sounded. He looked so confused, so scared…

_DING_

Both of them jumped at the sudden, loud noise. It took Devi a few seconds before she realized what it was.

"Oh, there's the dryer," she said quickly, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. She fairly jumped up from the couch. "I'll go get your clothes so you can get dressed." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

_Calm down, Devi_, she admonished herself as she pulled the still warm clothes from the dryer. _Remember that the man sitting next to you is a deranged, bipolar lunatic. Don't get him too upset, or he might go berserk._

Gathering his clothes together and tossing her own on top of the dryer, she took a deep breath and reentered the living room. Johnny seemed to have calmed down somewhat, though he still looked deeply disturbed. He was hugging himself, pressed back against the couch, his bent knees almost against his chest. He looked like he was protecting himself, shielding himself from further hurt or damage. A touch of sympathy fluttered through her heart.

"Here you go," she said, holding his clothes out to him. Slowly, as if it hurt to do so, he uncurled himself and stood up, gingerly taking the garments from her.

Devi sat down again as he went into the bathroom to change. She clasped her hands together in her lap, staring blankly at a calligraphy pen she had left on the coffee table that morning.

_So, now you know exactly what it was that fucked him up so badly_, she said to herself. She had known since her conflict with Sickness that what she had experienced was a shadow of what Johnny had experienced, yet she hadn't known _what_ it was exactly. Everything about the Doughboys and being a waste-lock seemed to fit in with what she had gone through, though. The sapping of creativity, the theft of their minds to make their mental parasites "real", the eventual ability of those parasites to actually move around on their own, the total immunity from any and all lasting harm…it all fit together too perfectly to be a coincidence. She shivered as she realized that it wasn't just some malevolent entity that had fucked with their sanity, but a necessary process in the wellbeing of the universe having gone haywire, a disastrous flaw in an indispensable system.

_Are there other people in the world for whom being a waste-lock has gotten so out of control?_ she wondered. _Are there other accumulations of emotional waste that have grown minds of their own? Are they ensnaring other people to help them break free, like Nny's monster did with me?_ She felt a sudden coldness bloom in her guts. _What if one of them succeeds in getting out? Is this Earth mere inches away from utter chaos even now? Oh, God, please don't let that happen…_

He thoughts were cut short as Johnny came out of the bathroom. He had Devi's grey pajamas draped over one forearm, and he was picking at little bits of lint that clung to his shirt. He looked odd without his boots on, but Devi paid no mind to that.

"Thanks for washing my clothes," he said, handing her the pajamas. "I really appreciate it. And…it was nice talking to you again. Brings back fond memories." His hollow cheeks reddened a little bit, a shy smile gracing his thin lips. Looking away quickly, he grabbed his boots from the floor and pulled them on, fastening the numerous buckles with practiced ease.

"You're welcome," she said. Steeling herself, she turned to face him directly. "Thank _you_ for saving me, Nny. I'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for you."

Johnny stopped, though he didn't immediately look at her. She saw him bite his lip briefly, and then he met her eyes, his own eyes flickering in malice.

"I'd do it again if I had the chance," he said, a subtle growl in his voice. "I'd tear him limb from limb if I could. Shit like that doesn't deserve to live, not when he tried to…do _that_ to you."

Devi bit the inside of her lower lip, yet she held his gaze steady. His words chilled her to the core, but she pushed the cold feeling down. If there had ever been any doubt that he cared for her, there certainly wasn't any now.

"I should go now," he muttered, fastening the last buckle and standing up straight. "I guess I'll…see you around."

Devi nodded silently, watching as he turned and walked toward the front door. He paused for just a moment with his hand on the doorknob, and then he was gone.

Heaving a great sigh, she collapsed back on the couch, her arm flung over her eyes.

"What a day…what a completely fucked-up day…"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Ugh, _finally_ I got this done. I put a lot of time and effort into this. It got rather intense toward the end, and I hope I didn't overdo it any. With any luck, I kept both Nny and Devi in-character. I realize Devi's probably a little too…I dunno…_open_ with Nny, and Nny seems a bit too eager to divulge the details of his being a waste-lock, but I tried to keep the OOC-ness to a minimum. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I should tell you that the next one probably won't be written until after the Christmas season is over. I've been crazy busy lately, and I barely had enough time to write this.

Thanks for your continuing patience, you guys. It really means a lot to me. Love ya.


	15. A Ringing Phone

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Do I even have to say anymore that I'm sorry the chapter is so late? Probably not. I should, however, say that I didn't mean for it to be _this_ late. I thought I'd have this written in January sometime. Life has been coming at me fast lately, though. Sorry to keep you guys waiting.

Thanks go to Kosuki, kalilamae, Invader Sideos, TaylorTheWeird, Artemis-M, xcorezombie, Osuwarii, phx88gir, GuesssWho, CrushonDib, The Only Person Who Luvz Akito, Lynn, Desdemona Kakalose, thesupernugget, Mrs. Terwilliger, Jay, Miscellaneous Penguin, Silver-Cat25, and Miss Tagi for reading and reviewing chapter fourteen! Doughnuts for everyone!

Please note that I don't know if the Spanish at the beginning of this chapter is very good. I had to supplement my poor knowledge of the language with an online translator. I realize that the grammar is probably horrible, and the level of formality between mother and daughter might be unrealistic. Corrections are welcome, just don't be snippy about it, please.

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Fifteen: A Ringing Phone**

"Third and University. Last stop downtown."

Tess looked up from her book at the announcement. The bus she was on was coming to a stop, and people around her were starting to stand up. Marking her place and tucking the small book into an inside pocket of her coat, she followed suit.

She stopped on the sidewalk a few feet away from the bus. Those who had disembarked with her walked around and past her, a few giving her dirty looks for stopping so suddenly. She didn't pay them any mind, though.

She sighed briefly through her nose. Down the street was The Black Hole, one of the dance clubs she sometimes visited, as well as tonight's destination. She hadn't been to this one in a while, and part of her was wondering why she was even coming back. There were people there she absolutely hated, and it would be easier for all involved if she just stayed away from this particular club. It seemed to attract more assholes than any other club she could go to, and she usually left it feeling angry, humiliated, or both.

_I guess I'm just a masochist_, she thought somewhat dryly as she started in the club's direction. Despite the unsavory clientele, she craved the atmosphere of the place. There, surrounded by so many people who shared her interests, she could pretend she wasn't so lonely for a couple of hours.

_Stupid girl_, she scolded herself. _Can't you find better things to do than subject yourself to the "company" of these ass-ticks?_

Her self-chastising thoughts were interrupted by the chirping of her cell phone. Stopping a few buildings away from The Black Hole, she dug through the pockets of her coat, looking for the source of the electronic ring.

The caller ID said "Reyes, Cristina". She flipped it open to answer.

"Hola, Mamá," she said, trying to hide the disinterest in her voice. She wasn't in the mood to talk to her mother right now.

"¡Teresa!" a middle-aged woman's voice squawked into her ear. "¡Finalmente usted contesta! ¡He estado tratando de llamarle toda la noche!"

"Perdón, he tenido mi teléfono apagó," she answered, though the sentiment was less than genuine.

"Olvídeselo," her mother replied, her voice impatient. "¿Dónde estuvo usted? La familia tuvo una reunión hoy, pero usted nunca apareció."

"Yo no he estado sintiéndome bien," she lied. "Yo no habría sido bueno para mí si vine."

"¡No me diga eso, Teresa!" her mother snapped. "¡Usted me ha dado la misma excusa cada vez yo quiero que usted visite! ¡No mienta a mí!"

Tess sighed, her jaw tightening briefly. "Tengo que ir ahora, Mamá," she said as calmly as she could. "Tengo las cosas para hacer."

"¡No cuelgue en mí! ¡Teres—"

_Beep_

Tess sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose as if to stave off a headache. Conversations with her mother always seemed to go this way.

_Why didn't you just let the phone ring?_ she silently asked herself. _You knew she'd be pissed about you not showing up again._

It had been a long time since she had had her parents', especially her mother's, good opinion. Ever since she, as a young teenager, had discovered that there was more to life than obeying her parents and following a strict set of rules, her behavior had never seemed to measure up to their expectations. It was like they were opposed to their daughter's independence. The seemed unable to accept that she wasn't their sweet little Teresita anymore, and the more they tried to rein her in, the less she was inclined to acquiesce. Sure, she was their only child, but this wasn't just empty nest syndrome. This was a case of parents, namely the mother, trying to retain control of their offspring even after adulthood has long since been reached. Tess figured they had control issues, and didn't like seeing her going down a different path than the one they expected for her…though she honestly didn't know exactly what that path was.

Now, there was little contact between her and her parents. She never called them, and it seemed the only reason they called her would be to yell at her for something. She was starting to wonder if she shouldn't just change her phone number.

Stuffing her phone back in her pocket, she continued down the sidewalk toward The Black Hole.

Walking through the door was like walking into a whole different world. Outside the club, it was dirty, bleak, and almost entirely grey. Inside was a kaleidoscope of colors flitting in and out of the shadows, music pounding through the air as the overhead lights flickered and flashed in sync with the beat. Candy ravers and other garishly-dressed patrons filled the dance floor, each and every one swept up in the dance, all of them performing their own interpretation of the pulsing, rhythmic sound emanating from the many speakers dotting the walls and ceiling.

Tess felt a smile creep across her face. This was the atmosphere she craved. Everyone else here could just fuck off. She knew in the back of her mind that she would probably end up remembering before the night was over why she had an aversion to this place, but right now she didn't care. Right now, all she wanted to do was let loose and have some fun.

Stairs near the back of the dance hall led up to a half floor, upon which was the bar and several tables. Patrons who had come for purposes other than dancing populated this area, some gathered around the tables while others leaned against the guard rail or the wall. Most were engaged in conversation, but some seemed to be by themselves, standing alone and glaringly disdainfully at everything and everyone around them. Those people Tess generally avoided. She had learned long ago that they were content to stare spitefully at everyone else, having convinced themselves that they were somehow above the surrounding rabble. There was no talking to them, so Tess didn't even try anymore.

Winding her way to the stairs and quickly climbing to the top, she headed toward the bar. She always started a night of dancing with something to drink. Nothing loosened her up and put her into a partying mood like a quick shot of alcohol.

"Well, well, well," a voice suddenly stood out above the others. "Teresa Reyes. I don't think I've seen you around here in months."

Tess stopped. She knew who that voice belonged to. A vague feeling of dread and disgust welled up in her gut. Turning around, she faced the person who had hailed her.

Anne Gwish sat at a table overlooking the dance floor, a cigarette held between her index and middle fingers. Her claw-like nails were painted black, as were her lips and eyes. A mid-length black dress adorned her extraordinarily thin frame, the hem of the skirt ending just above the knee-length stiletto boots she wore. There was virtually no color at all anywhere on the immaculately-groomed woman. If not for her blue-gray eyes, she could have stepped right out of a black-and-white photograph.

"Hi, Anne," Tess managed to answer after a few seconds. She had only met Anne a few times before, but every single one of those times left her feeling like she had just been talking with the physical manifestation of self-absorption. She seemed intent upon bringing every topic of conversation around to herself, and she took pride in belittling and besmirching those she saw as beneath her. That meant just about everyone.

Anne gestured to the empty chair across the small table from her. "Sit down. We haven't talked in ages."

_Yeah, and I'd rather keep it that way_, Tess wanted to say. She'd rather avoid any unpleasant experiences tonight as far as she was able, especially so soon after arriving. Sitting down with a raging narcissist wasn't exactly the best way to have an enjoyable night out.

"Well?" Anne prompted after several seconds of no response. "You don't want to talk to me?" She raised one elegant eyebrow, throwing Tess a penetrating look.

"Oh no, it's not that," Tess replied with a half-smile, pulling the chair out and sitting down. _Idiot_, she berated herself. _Why can't you ever say no to these jerks?!_

Anne took a slow drag from her cigarette, letting the smoke out in an equally slow exhale. She seemed to ignore Tess at first, as if forgetting that she had just invited the shorter girl to sit down. After a moment, Tess started wondering if Anne would even notice if she just got up and left.

"So, Tess," Anne said after an eternity of silence, "there's something I've wanted to ask you."

"What's that?" Tess asked, leaning her chin on her palm. _Great.__ What does _she_ want from _me_?_

Anne took another draw of smoke. "Dillon."

Tess felt a chill spread through her chest. "What about Dillon?" she asked, keeping her voice steady. Horrific images swam before her eyes for a brief moment.

"Whatever happened to him?" the taller woman asked, her tone that of someone who wasn't really interested in what she was asking about. "Cleo and I haven't seen him in forever, either. It's like he just disappeared." She swung her disinterested gaze to Tess' face. "You were the last person anyone saw him with."

Tess' eyes widened. A shaky, far-off image of Dillon's car in an otherwise deserted parking garage crawled before her mind's eye. It was the last thing she saw before hearing Dillon's agonized shriek as the business end of a stun gun was jammed against his neck. Seconds later, she had been brought down in the same way, and had woken up strapped into an electric chair in a dirty, bloodstained little room with a madman grinning gleefully at her. Her life had never been the same since that night, and the nightmares still continued to plague her.

Anne raised her eyebrow again, seemingly confused by Tess' stunned silence. "What? You didn't kill him, did you?"

"What?!" Tess almost shouted, startled out of her memories. "I didn't kill him!" Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she had no idea if the other woman was joking or if she was asking a serious question. A brief flash of red invaded her mind, an image of Dillon literally ripped from the wall of their underground prison, torn limb from limb in one swift movement by the ungodly _thing_ that was pouring from the opposite wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, banishing the image from her mind.

Anne continued to stare at her for a moment before flicking the ash from her cigarette into a small ashtray, waving her hand vaguely as if to dismiss the question. "Forget it," she said. "I can't get any answers out of you if you're gaping like a whore's cunt."

Tess snapped her mouth shut, feeling taken aback. She normally wasn't offended by words, but that was vulgar even for her tastes.

Anne took another puff off her cigarette, as if she had said nothing cruder than "Nice weather out, hm?"

"I…haven't seen Dillon lately," Tess said after a moment, looking down at the tabletop. "We didn't part on the best of terms, either."

"So I hear," Anne said coolly. "The general belief is that you dumped him right out of the blue."

"Well…it wasn't really like that…but the relationship did end rather suddenly."

Again, that eyebrow went up. "Did he dump you, then?"

"No…"

"What, then?"

_Why is she so fuckin' curious?_ Tess felt like she was in an interrogation room. She glanced briefly around them, hoping she would find someone she knew. She really didn't want to be talking about this, and she cast about blindly for a reason to excuse herself.

Anne stubbed her cigarette out and leaned back in her chair. "I wouldn't blame him if he did dump you. I always thought he could do far better."

Tess stared at her dumbly. She had already known that Anne was a callous bitch, but she still felt like she had been kicked in the teeth. Did she really just say that…?

"Cleo and I were shocked when he asked you out the first time," Anne continued, either not noticing or not caring about Tess' stunned expression. "We were convinced he was wasted. Imagine our surprise that it lasted as long as it did."

"It lasted as long as it did, because I was too much of a doormat to leave his sorry ass," the smaller woman blurted out before she could stop herself.

"Excuse me?" Anne was eyeing her with thinly-veiled contempt as she pulled another cigarette from the small purse sitting on the table to her right. She seemed to find Tess' sudden assertion to be distasteful.

"Dillon was an asshole!" Tess nearly shouted. "He thought it was _fun_ to bully and harass everyone around him!"

"He wasn't bullying or harassing them," Anne said, blowing smoke in Tess' direction. "He was just reminding the insects who was above them."

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me!"

"What, is that so hard to understand? I don't see why. He was above you, at any rate."

Tess clenched her teeth behind her closed lips, forcing herself to inhale slowly. A wave of indignant rage had surged through her at Anne's last remark, and the normally non-violent Tess had to almost physically hold herself back from striking out at the other woman.

"That wasn't very nice."

Tess' breath froze in her chest as rage turned suddenly to horror. Those four words, those four little words, sent a lance of terror straight into her heart. It wasn't actually the words so much as the voice that spoke them. She knew that voice. She would _never_ forget that voice.

"Oh? And who are you?" Anne was now looking above Tess' head, irritation and curiosity shining equally in her nearly colorless eyes.

"Nobody," the owner of the voice said, stepping forward slightly from the railing he had been leaning against. "Just another body in this swarm of mindless thrill-seekers."

"How poetic," Anne replied with a smirk. She looked at Tess, and her smirk grew into a grin at the sight of the other woman's expression of absolute terror. "Who's this, Tess? Abusive boyfriend?"

"I didn't think friends were supposed to talk to each other this way," the thin man said, a sneer in his voice. He was virtually ignoring Tess, instead seemingly intent on drilling a hole between Anne's eyes with his sharp gaze.

"We're not friends," Anne retorted, "and this is none of your business."

The man signed slightly after a moment. "I guess it isn't any of my business. I just hate to see people preying on their own kind for nothing more than petty, selfish entertainment."

"How altruistic of you." The tall woman flicked the ash from her cigarette, glowing particles floating weightlessly away from the burning cherry.

"You were doing an excellent job, by the way," the man continued, casting a quick but disgusted glance at the cigarette. "Perhaps a bit heavy-handed, but I can tell you've got skills. Don't worry about your execution tonight. Everyone has their off days."

"I'll keep that in mind," Anne said, a thin smile stretching her lips. There wasn't a drop of mirth in her expression. It was more like a grimace of contempt than an actual smile. "What's your name, stranger? I haven't seen you around here before."

"Oh, I've been around here plenty of times," the man smiled back, his expression mirroring hers. "You've just never managed to see me. And believe me, my dear, I've been watching you for quite some time."

"I'm flattered, but I'm afraid you're not my type."

The man gave a short, jagged sound that might have been a giggle. "That's not why I've been watching you, sweetheart."

The scrape of a chair sliding across floor suddenly cut across their repartee. Both looked at Tess, who was now half-standing. She froze, as if she were a child caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Going somewhere?" Anne asked.

"U-um," Tess stammered, opening and closing her mouth for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I-it's getting really stuffy in here. I need to get some air."

"Go on," the man said, raising a hand as if waving goodbye. "Go home. You look sick. Get some rest."

Tess didn't waste another second. She was out of her chair and nearly stumbling down the stairs to the main dance floor. Her previously paralyzed heart was thundering in her chest, a scream hovering in her throat. She pushed through the throng of people crowding the place, paying no heed to the annoyed exclamations as she shoved her way toward the door. She didn't stop until she was through the double-doors, panting raggedly on the sidewalk, hunched over with her hands on her knees.

_Oh, God!_ she screamed internally. _Oh my fucking God! It was him! That fucked-up little freak who kept torturing Dillon!_ She dug her nails into her pant legs, clenching the black fabric between her fingers. _Why did I have to run into that shit again?! God damn it, WHY?!_

She realized she was freezing. Sweat had broken out over her skin, making the cold night air seem absolutely frigid. Her slight frame was shivering uncontrollably, trying to fend off the rising cold feeling. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm her now freezing body.

"Tess!"

"GAH!" She nearly jumped off the curb at the sound of her name.

"What are you doing here?!" the sudden voice continued. "Are you okay?! You look terrible!"

"T-T-Tenna!" Tess managed to say, clutching at her chest as if trying to subdue her again wildly-beating heart. For a split second, she hadn't recognized the voice that was practically shouting in her ear, and her frazzled brain had reacted with explosive fright.

"What's going on?" the other woman asked, a worried look in your eyes. "You look like you've just seen a ghost!"

"I-I need to go home," Tess answered, her voice still shaking. "I think I'm getting sick."

"Do you want me to drive you home? I wouldn't want you taking the bus if you're getting sick."

"Thank you, Tenna. I really need you to do that for me." _Please, get me away from this place!!_

"Come on, then!" Tenna smiled, her normal gleefulness peeking through her concern. "I'm not parked far. I'll have you home in a snap!"

Tess followed Tenna silently, paying no attention to the other woman's chatter. She was too absorbed in reorganizing her jumbled thoughts to pay attention to anything more than where she was setting her feet with each step.

Tonight certainly went to Hell in a hand basket. All she had wanted was to go dancing, and she had run into two people straight out of her nightmares. In less than half an hour, her night had gone from hopeful to absolutely ruined.

_I knew it would end badly_, she thought ruefully. _Just my fucking rotten luck…_

* * *

Johnny flopped down onto his bed, sighing loudly. Flinging a narrow arm across his face, he lay there silently for a moment, just letting his spine stretch.

_Fuck_, that woman pissed him off. What was her name? Anna? Something like that.

It was true that he had been watching her for quite some time now. She showed up at The Black Hole like clockwork, so Johnny always knew when to watch out for her. Everything about the woman either disgusted or enraged him—or both. He sometimes found himself wondering why he hadn't slit her throat yet.

_Perhaps it's morbid curiosity to see just how nauseating she can get_, he thought dryly, peering up at the plywood ceiling. A cynical smile crossed his features. _It'd be a shame to destroy something so close to perfection, after all, even if it's perfect repulsiveness._

He sighed again and sat up. Tonight hadn't gone according to plan. Then again, things never seemed to go according to plan. Not for him, anyway.

Tonight, he was just going to drop in at a dance club, people-watch for a little bit, perhaps find someone who needed "education", and then he was going to leave. He never meant to talk to anyone, especially not that bitch in five pounds of makeup, and he sure as hell didn't expect to meet with that other girl. He had kept that girl in his basement for weeks a while back, shackled to the wall next to her cum-shot of a boyfriend. He vaguely remembered talking to her as he had bled out on his living room floor, and when he had woken up again, she was gone. He hadn't expected to ever see her again.

"Not that I wanted to," he muttered. She was just another lemming in the human herd, blindly rushing toward "companionship" when all she would be getting was cold, unfeeling misery. He supposed he pitied her somewhat, as she seemed more intelligent than most, but her incessant pleading for him to show mercy on her shit-sack of a lover had gotten on his last nerve. If he had lived a little longer, he probably would have started "educating" her, as well.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he bent down and started unfastening his boots. Out of the corner of his eye, a small, cracked ceramic statue caught his glance. Reverend Meat was still on the floor, though Johnny had kicked him toward the wall after tripping over him several days ago.

"Nothing to say, hm?" he said dully, staring at the statue after finishing with his boots. "Just like you had nothing to say about what happened at the warehouse?"

It had been nearly two weeks since the altercation between Devi and Derek that he had intervened in. Nearly two weeks since he had last heard a peep out of Reverend Meat.

Johnny still had trouble getting his mind around the concept. Was the relentless little nagging voice really gone for good? Or had he just gone into recession, biding his time until he had to surface again? The uncertainty—and insecurity—was starting to eat away at Johnny, and he almost wished he could ask the burger boy which it was. He had tried, but had received no answer.

Along with the uncertainty, frustration with himself was steadily rising. For months, he had insisted, demanded, practically even begged on occasion, for the unremitting voice to go away, to leave him in peace. Now, that quite possibly was the case, so why wasn't he happy about it? Why did he constantly feel like he was dangling with no support? Why did he constantly find himself straining, listening for some word, some sentiment, from the grotesque little statue?

Why did he seem to _want_ the voice to come back?

"I can't win, can I?" he asked himself barrenly, drifting over to his dresser, looking at his shattered reflection in the cracked mirror.

It seemed he was really, truly alone now. After all these years, he had his mind all to himself now. No phantom voices following him around, no foreign presences constantly spying on his thoughts and emotions, no arguments with himself over which part of him was more _him_. And somehow, on a very deep level, that terrified him. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't shared his mind with something else, and the feeling of being cut loose was like being dropped into a pool of ice water.

"I finally get what I want," he whispered bitterly, "and find out that it's _not_ what I want." He rounded swiftly on the fallen statue. "Why can't I ever get a _break_?!"

He kicked out at Reverend Meat, propelling the cracked hunk of ceramic against the wall. It hit the solid wood and shattered with a resounding _ping_.

Johnny dropped instantly to the floor, clutching his foot. He had kicked Meat while wearing only socks, and his toes were now in splitting agony. The statue had been small, but solid ceramic was heavy. He was lucky he hadn't broken a few toes with the force of the impact.

_Fuck, it's going to hurt to walk for a while_, he thought, biting his lip. He squeezed his eyes shut. _See? Just can't ever get a fucking break!_

_RRRIIINNG!_

Johnny sat bolt upright at the sound that suddenly resounded throughout the house, his eyes wide in surprise. In the silence of the house, the sound was almost irritatingly loud. He hadn't heard that sound in a long time, not since…the night he died.

"Someone's calling," he muttered as he heard the sound again, his voice detached, bordering on stunned.

The telephone in the living room was ringing. The silent, seemingly useless device had suddenly sprung to life, loudly announcing that someone had dialed his number.

Wobbling up to his feet, Johnny slowly exited the bedroom, mindful of his injured foot. Limping gingerly over to the small table the phone sat on, he felt a rising sense of apprehension flooding his gut.

He just stared at the ringing phone for a moment. That's all it was, a ringing phone. There was no gun pointed at his head or tracking his every move around the room, no automated arm rigged to fire that gun the moment he spoke into the receiver. There was nothing sinister or threatening about it. It was just a ringing phone.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the receiver.

"Hello…?" he ventured to ask, almost afraid to find out who was on the other end. _It's a wrong number. It's gotta be a wrong number._

For a moment, no one answered. And then—

"Hi, Nny."

"Devi…?!" he gaped, almost dropping the phone. "What…what do _you_ want?" _Oh, THAT sounded great…_

"It's…it's been almost two weeks now, Nny," Devi said after another hesitation.

"Yeah," Johnny replied. "How are you holding up?"

"Oh, fine," she answered. "Getting better."

"That's good." This was surreal. Here he was talking with the woman who he knew hated his guts, and who he had gruesomely killed for almost a fortnight past, like the only thing wrong between them was a few petty arguments.

"It's been a really long two weeks, though, Nny," she continued, and he thought he detected a shade of distress in her voice. "I've barely been working."

"What? Why not?"

"I've…been thinking. Hard. Thinking so damned hard, I've given myself migraines. It's been one long argument with myself since you left, and I haven't been able to give my attention to anything else. I've tried talking to a friend, but she just confused me more. I've been fighting with myself over one simple little decision, but…I think…I think I've finally made a choice. A huge part of me is saying I'm absolutely insane, that I'm signing my own death sentence, but I want…to start over. I want to start again from the beginning. Can we do that, Nny?" As she continued to talk, she sounded more and more like she was on the verge of tears. It was like she was forcing herself to say something she was completely terrified of saying.

"Devi," he said, his voice surprisingly calm now, "tell me what's bothering you."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. He could hear her deliberate breaths through the phone as she reined in her emotions and steadied her voice again. Finally, after one long minute of near-silence, she said:

"Johnny…will you…go out with me…?"

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Ta-da. It's done. As usual, I'm not terribly confident about how good it is, but hopefully this is just a case of me being my harshest critic. I got my fingers crossed.

Sorry about being so mean to Tess. I don't think I'll bring her into the story again, but like with Squee several chapters back, I just wanted to show a snapshot in the life of a _JTHM_ character who is unrelated to this story, a look into how things are going for them while "My Immortal" is playing out. A bit of filler that hopefully isn't too cumbersome or boring, I guess you could say. I don't know how well I kept Tess or Anne in-character, but I tried to give Tess the defiant-yet-still-rather-insecure attitude JV indicated in her bio, and we see so little of Anne in the comic that virtually the only requirement of her is to be as bitchy and self-centered as possible. I think I succeeded, but I'll leave the final say in that to you guys.

Yes, Tess knows Tenna. I don't see why not. Devi can't be Tenna's _only_ friend, and they all seem to be in the same (or similar) social circles. So, I took a tiny liberty in character relations. Hope no one minds.

I think that's about it. I'm sorry it's taken over three months to get this out to you guys, but I guess that can't be helped now. I'm just hoping and praying I get chapter sixteen finished in a slightly smaller time period. Slightly as in, like, one month as opposed to three. At the most. We'll see what happens, I guess. Thanks again for your continuing support, you guys, and I'll see you all later.


	16. Take Two

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

I don't think I even need to say that I'm sorry this chapter is late. Really, _really_ late. My only excuse is that Life has a way of getting in the way of writing, and by the time I realize I haven't updated this story, months have already passed. Maybe the long space of time between chapters just makes it all the better when they finally get posted. Yeah. I'll just think of it that way.

Vielen Dank to CrushonDib, The Only Person Who Luvz Akito, Osuwarii, Miss Tagi, Invader Sideos, kalilamae, Miscellaneous Penguin, kr0n, JenovaPooh, Desdemona Kakalose, tasty cheez, Animartchic, phx88gir, Kosuki, sunglassesANDunicorns, and dark precipice for reading and reviewing chapter fifteen! I realize how mean it was of me to include such a cliffhanger and then leave the story hanging for months on end. Sorry, guys. I hope I haven't lost too many readers in the interim…

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Sixteen: Take Two**

Devi swallowed uncertainly for perhaps the thousandth time as she checked the clock on her dashboard. It said 5:49pm. She and Johnny had agreed to meet at 6:00pm tonight. At the moment, she was driving toward their meeting place, and she felt every second tick away as if she were staring at a time bomb, just waiting for it to explode.

In all honesty, she was a nervous wreck. Ever since waking up this morning—hell, ever since yesterday afternoon—she could think of nothing but this evening. A large part of her, likely her rational part, was screaming at her not to go through with this, that she was walking right into a deathtrap. Her subconscious mind kept conjuring up horrific images, possibilities of what a homicidal maniac with a knife could do to her the moment she let her guard down. There had been times today where she literally felt ill.

_I'm not going to back out of this_, she thought, clenching her teeth behind her closed lips. She was gripping the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles had gone white. _I have a chance to rekindle the best relationship I remember having. Even if it's a ridiculously small chance, I'm going through with this. I am _not_ going to let my fears get the best of me._

A tiny glimmer of hope had appeared to her since that difficult phone call to Johnny two days ago. The part of her that still harbored fond memories of him had awoken with a desperate cry, scrabbling at any chance it could that things might go back to the way they were before.

_Things will _never_ go back to the way they were_, she admonished herself. _I can't just forget what he did to me, and what he's done to so many others. There's just no turning that off. The best I can hope for is that we'll be able to pick up the pieces and move on._

She felt a stab of self-derision at the phrase _pick up the pieces_. She and Johnny had gone on one single date, and before that had known each other a scant three months, a huge chunk of their interaction confined to conversations in the bookstore where she had worked. When she got right down to it, the portion of her life with Johnny in it hadn't been all that significant, time-wise. Saying that there were pieces to pick up made it seem like they had been together for years, or at least a lot longer than three months. Hell, she couldn't really say that they had been "together" except for a few fleeting hours…

Her tires screeched over the pavement as she slammed on the breaks, realizing only just in time that there were people crossing the street in front of her. She stopped just in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding hitting one of them. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her eyes wide from the sudden shock.

A couple of the people crossing in front of her yelled some things that she couldn't really make out. She guessed they were swearing at her for almost hitting them. She didn't pay any attention to them, instead letting out a great sigh and dropping her head forward, letting the tension from the scare drain out of her, hoping some of her anxiety over meeting Johnny might go as well.

_You greasy-haired idiots_, she mentally reprimanded the people she had almost run over. _Don't dress all in black and then walk in the street at this hour._ A gaggle of mall-goths had stepped heedlessly into the street as she had approached, no crosswalk or crossing signal in sight. It was dark enough to impair vision somewhat, but it wasn't yet dark enough for the streetlights to come on, so it was a bit hard to see anything that her headlights weren't shining directly on. The lighting conditions coupled with her distraction had rendered the group invisible until she had almost mowed them down.

She let the last of them pass before continuing on down the street. The back of her mind was actually a bit thankful for the near-accident. It had succeeded in somewhat shaking her loose from her anxious inner monologue. She was still nervous, but wasn't so distracted that she barely saw what was in front of her. She was no longer gripping the steering wheel hard enough to leave permanent finger indentations, and she only now realized how sore her hands had become.

_Even if our chances of continuing on _are_ ridiculously small, I can't just let this pass me by_, she said to herself, somewhat calmer than before. _If I don't do this, I'll regret it forever. I have to find out for _sure_ if it's impossible or not._

A sudden wave of melancholia washed over her, and she felt her chest constrict. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swore she felt her eyes start to sting.

_I fell in love with you, Nny. Will you…let me fall in love with you again…?_

She shook her head, blinking rapidly. _Jeezus__, Devi, don't lose it now. Tonight hasn't even started yet._

Setting her jaw, she reached over and turned the radio on. The throbbing pulse of a dance mix emanated from the speakers, and she turned it up loud. She needed something to distract her from her thoughts until she reached her destination, and loud, bass-filled electronica seemed to be her best bet.

She drove the rest of the way in silence, letting the music resonate in her bones, feeling the beat vibrating in her sternum. Before long, the glowing neon sign of the Camera loomed up in the darkness. Devi felt a jolt of apprehension shoot through her.

Driving into the parking garage shared by the Camera and a few other nearby businesses, she parked her car and got out. She was slightly surprised to realize that her hands weren't shaking as she locked the door. She felt as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but she was outwardly holding together surprisingly well. It's not like she wasn't rehearsed in putting on a calm front—her laundry list of first dates had been excellent practice—but the current situation seemed enough to crack even her schooled composure. The fact that she was in control enough to keep her nervousness from physically manifesting was a good sign, she thought.

Walking out of the garage and around the corner to the front of the building, she spied a figure leaning up against the wall near the entrance. He was out of the way of the theater's outdoor lights, shadow obscuring most of his features, but she knew exactly who it was. There was no mistaking that silhouette.

Cautiously, she approached the figure. "Hi, Nny," she said, giving a small smile. Her voice was a bit high-pitched, but she managed to keep it steady.

Johnny straightened up from his lean, turning toward her and stepping halfway out of the shadows. "Hey, Devi."

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Neither of them seemed to know what to do.

It was Devi who finally broke the silence. "I didn't see your car in the Camera's section of the parking garage," she said, trying to make light conversation. "How'd you get here?"

"I took the bus into town, then walked here from the transit center," he explained. "You said you wanted to keep reminders of our first date to a minimum, so I thought I'd leave it at home." On their first date, Johnny had picked Devi up at her place in his little gray car and then they had driven to the movies together. Tonight, as per Devi's request, they had come separately to their destination, meeting on neutral ground with neither of them depending on the other for a ride home. She wanted to avoid seeing Johnny's rundown little house at any cost, and the idea of riding in the same car with him was rather undesirable as well. Despite her determination to see if they had a snowflake's chance in Hell at continuing their relationship, she still felt monumentally uncomfortable with the idea of being confined alone with him in any kind of closed-in space, be it a car or a living room. Sitting together in a theater didn't count, as they were surrounded by dozens of other people. She briefly imagined a massive school of fish, the inhabitants of the school finding safety from predators in the sheer numbers of their group.

_I'm not afraid of threats from without, though_, she thought. _It's another fish in the school that I'm nervous about._

"So, what do you want to see?" Johnny asked, breaking through her thoughts. "I haven't been to a movie in a while, myself. I'm open to just about anything."

"Um…" Devi hummed, looking up at the board showing what movies were playing. The Camera was an independent theater owned by a local family, and tended to show different fare than the big theater chains did. It usually showed lesser-known films, many of them from the indie circuit. It often also showed older films with a quiet but strong fan base, tried-and-true classics (many of them of the cult variety) that didn't regularly appear in critics' top ten lists, or even their top one hundred lists.

Johnny waited patiently, perusing the list as well but waiting for her to choose one.

Devi gave a small gasp of surprise, her eyes widening as she spied a title near the bottom of the list. "I haven't seen _Labyrinth_ in ages!" she squeaked. The title of one of her childhood favorites was staring back at her, and she felt a rush of nostalgia. A bizarre old film from Jim Henson and George Lucas, it had David Bowie in the guise of a goblin king who looked like a cross between a fairy tale warlock and a 1980s punk rocker. She had watched it countless times when she was a girl, and the memory of how much she had believed in it at the time made her giggle.

"You want to see that?" Johnny asked. "I don't think I've seen it myself. If I have, I don't remember."

"Sure!" she said, her smile turning into a grin. "I loved this movie when I was little! I couldn't get enough of it!"

"Okay," Johnny replied, a smile of his own quirking his lips up. "Let's get in line, then."

* * *

"Did I tell you that you look really nice tonight, Devi?"

Devi paused in picking up a strip of teriyaki beef. She and Johnny were at a Japanese grill not too far from the Camera. They had ordered a made-for-two platter of mixed beef and chicken on a bed of sticky rice, though Devi had noticed that Johnny wasn't really eating all that much.

She felt her cheeks warm a little. "Thank you," she said, fiddling with her chopsticks.

Johnny poked at a lump of rice with his own chopsticks. The had talked amicably enough since arriving at the restaurant, the topic wandering from things like books and movies to the many reasons why animals were easier to like than humans. Something was amiss, though. Neither of them was nearly as comfortable as they had been before everything between them fell apart. It was like the specter of their first date was hanging over them, making both of them awkward and hesitant.

_Is it always going to be this way now, or will we grow out of it?_ Devi wondered, bringing the bite to her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

She stopped chewing as she realized that she was indicating to herself that there would be further interaction between them. Uncomfortable though she was, she didn't seem to be in that much of a hurry to brand this a failed experiment.

_If this "first" date turns out all right, what then?_ she pondered. _Will we become more at ease with each other? Will this turn into a real relationship? Will things steadily get better instead of worse, like they always have?_ A hopeful feeling sparked to life in her heart, an excitement for what may come swelling up. She almost let it take over before she sharply pushed it away. _Don't start hoping too much, Devi_, she admonished herself. _You still have no idea where this is going. Don't count your chickens quite yet._

"You okay?" Johnny asked, noticing her grimace. "You look like you just remembering something annoying."

Devi shook her head, as if to clear it. "Oh, I'm fine," she said, giving a small smile. "Just thinking of some difficulties I've been having with work lately."

"Ah." He didn't look like he believed her entirely, but he didn't push the matter. For that she was grateful. He seemed just as reluctant to bring up their previous problems as she was, and she was glad of it. They were trying to start over, and looking backward to the past was no way to do it.

"Why don't you eat some more, Nny?" she asked, changing the subject. "This food is really good. It'd be a shame to waste any of it."

"I know," Johnny replied, tilting his head and looking at the plate. "I'm just…not that hungry, I guess."

"I hope you don't mind my saying this, Nny, but I find it really hard to believe you're not hungry," she said, reproach underlining her words. "You're skin and bones. No one can say that that's you're natural body type. I know _I'm_ thin, but you make even _me_ look fat. That can't be healthy."

Johnny didn't immediately respond. Devi feared at first that she had said something out of line, that his alarmingly low weight was a sore spot for him. He merely sighed quietly after a moment, leaning back in his seat.

"I know it's not healthy," he said, looking up at the lamp that hung above their table. "It's hard to explain, really. I know that my body is starving, and that I barely eat enough to survive. I'm almost certain that I can actually feel being hungry from time to time. I just…have no appetite, I guess."

"No appetite?" she repeated, looking at him with concern.

He shrugged. "I've always hated being dependent on things other than myself. Physical and mental needs…I'm repelled by all of them on one level or another. Succumbing to them makes me feel weak. If I could live without food, I would."

"You shouldn't look upon it as a weakness, Nny," she countered. "Think of your natural needs as proof that you're alive. They can cause pain, but they can also cause pleasure. Of all different kinds. I know being alive doesn't always feel like the best thing in the world, but you just need to relax and enjoy what you can." Inside, she felt like the biggest hypocrite on Earth for saying that. She was the one who had shut herself in for months, exposing herself to the outside world as little as possible, shunning all but the most necessary human contact. There were still certain physical urges that repulsed her, and she didn't know when, if ever, that would change. However, she had a feeling Johnny wasn't the only person she was giving advice to. It was like she was speaking to herself as well, trying to get her own mind to listen and open up to the world. Some tiny part of her craved "normal" relations with people, despite how reclusive she seemed on the surface, and that tiny part was now, perhaps, speaking its mind. It was normally quiet enough that even she forgot it existed from time to time.

Johnny just sat there quietly, a thoughtful look on his face. A darkness seeped into his eyes, and when Devi noticed she felt a twinge of dread.

"I don't mean to lecture you," she said quickly. "I'm sorry if I offended you, or anything."

Johnny shook his head. "No, it's not you. It's just that Meat—er, one of the voices I heard—he kept telling me the exact same thing. He'd go on and on about how I should embrace my feelings, no matter how undesirable they seemed. He said that I'm only human, and that to deny my feelings was denying who and what I am. 'Blasphemy of my species', I think he once called it."

"Well, I agree with what he said, actually," Devi nodded, "though I myself don't have a very good track record, to be honest."

"You have a better track record than me." His voice sounded petulant, but a wry smile settled on his lips. A hint of the playful spark she had often seen during their more animated conversations flickered in his eyes.

She laughed. "Maybe. You have to admit that both of us are pretty ill-equipped to live 'normal' lives, though."

"I can't argue with that," Johnny conceded, and Devi felt a little thrill as his smile grew just a tiny bit more prominent.

"Is this 'Meat' you mentioned new?" she asked after a bite of rice. "You didn't say anything about him when describing the Doughboys."

"Yeah," Johnny nodded. "He didn't show up until after my trip to Hell and everyone else had fallen silent. He said he was the manifestation of the last vestiges of my humanity, my only connection to everything. I couldn't hear him until after I stopped being a waste-lock, and by then he was desperate to stay alive. When I went on my 'holiday', I couldn't hear his actual voice, but I always knew he was there, watching. Once I came back, he hardly shut up. He drove me fucking _crazy_. But then…he disappeared. Since what happened in the warehouse a few weeks back, he hasn't said a word. There's no one in my head with me now, no one speaking to me every time I turn around. I…I almost feel lonely."

"Maybe you're just returning to the way you were before you became a waste-lock?" Devi suggested after listening in silence. "You said the life of a waste-lock is 'reset' back to normal once their job is done. Maybe it's just taking longer than usual for you to get back to normal."

"I've thought of that," Johnny concurred, "but I haven't any clue if that's right or not. I still don't remember what I was like before I was 'chosen', or even when it was that I started degrading. I don't know if I heard voices beforehand, or if that was a symptom of being a flusher. Maybe locking the waste up is what caused parts of me to separate from the whole, making me 'hear' them as separate entities, but I could have been talking to myself before that just as easily. I honestly don't know. The Devil said I was sick to begin with, but that could mean anything. I _think_ I started my, um, _hobbies_ once it started sapping my creativity. I'm almost certain that my increasingly dissatisfied view of the world was born out of frustration over losing my artistic side. I can't _really_ be certain about it, though. My world view hasn't changed much since my life was 'reset'. I don't know if it's left over from being a waste-lock or if it's how I was to begin with. The near total block on my memories hasn't lessened much, either. I'm starting to wonder if the 'reset' isn't as thorough as the Devil suggested."

Devi listened wordlessly, poking grains of rice around her side of the plate as Johnny spoke. He was speaking quietly, almost dazedly. It was as if he wasn't entirely aware he was still talking. Part of her considered stopping him, but the other part of her was curious to hear what he had to say.

Johnny sighed and rubbed his forehead between his eyes, as if staving off a headache. "Sorry, I've let my mouth run again. Can we change the subject? I really don't want to talk about this. We're supposed to be on a date, not at some therapy session."

"Yeah," Devi nodded. "Sorry about reminding you of all that. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"S'okay."

Silence fell, Johnny staring blankly at some spot over Devi's head, Devi nibbling a bit uncomfortably on the food in front of her. She had almost felt like she was back in the bookstore, talking with him about everything under the sun. The topic of their conversation, however, wasn't something that Johnny had wanted to dwell on, and she was the one who had initiated it. She felt guilty for bringing up undoubtedly painful memories. Some date she was turning out to be.

Johnny had dropped his gaze to the plate in front of him. Or maybe he was looking across it at Devi. She didn't really notice, so focused she was on her current bite. When he sat up straight, however, he caught her gaze, and she looked at him expectantly. Maybe he had something to say…?

Now he was definitely staring at the plate. The look in his eyes was unreadable. Devi swallowed her food, meaning to ask him if anything was wrong, but she snapped her mouth shut when he reached forward. With one long-boned hand, he retrieved his chopsticks from where he had let them fall and plucked up a chunk of rice, a little bit of teriyaki sauce clinging to the small, white grains. He gazed at it for a moment, looking almost puzzled. Then, he opened his mouth and deposited the morsel of nourishment inside, chewing on it slowly.

Devi felt the sudden urge to smile. Johnny had just eaten something. He had taken a few small bites after the platter was brought to them, likely out of politeness, but after that he had barely touched the food. Now he was methodically chewing on some more. It seemed like such a small thing, and it was so far only one bite, but something told Devi that this was a good sign. If he was feeling good enough to eat, then he was feeling better than he usually did.

She really did smile when, several minutes after swallowing, he reached for some more. He didn't look like he was actively enjoying it, though this was really good teriyaki, but at least he seemed to be making an effort. An effort to what, Devi wasn't entirely sure, but she didn't think that mattered at the moment.

She went back to her own meal, feeling a margin better than she had a few minutes ago. _All things considered, tonight isn't going too badly._

* * *

Johnny slowly walked along the path leading from the sidewalk to his door, his hands in the pockets of his long coat. He had gotten off the bus about three blocks away, the nearest stop to his house, and had walked the rest of the way home. It was a quiet night, and the only sound he could hear clearly was the scuff of his boots against the pavement.

Pausing at his door, he took one last look up at the sky before entering. The sky was clear, just a few dark clouds drifting lazily across it. The full moon was bright, illuminating the neighborhood below with a pale, silvery light. Stars twinkled silently in the blue-black sky.

_Beautiful night_, he thought, smiling a little as he went inside. _Maybe I'll come out and watch the stars a little later._

Slipping off his coat and tossing it on the couch, he sat down next to it and removed his boots. The toes of his right foot were complaining, and it felt good to finally get the heavy footwear off.

_Damn, this hurts_, he grimaced silently, rubbing the sore toes through his socks. _Why the hell did I have to go and kick that hunk of plaster?_

He hadn't told Devi that he had almost lamed himself two days before. He didn't feel the need to. It's not like they were going on a long walk or to some dance club. He hardly considered bruised toes to be important enough to divulge for no reason.

Devi. He had just come back from their second date together. It had been like a first date, since their real first date was not only months ago, but something neither of them wished to think about. It had been great until the last five minutes. Unfortunately, Johnny's attempt to "immortalize the moment" had completely ruined the experience.

_Tonight was…nice_, he thought, looking up toward the bare lightbulb that dangled from the ceiling. _I was insanely nervous throughout the whole thing, and that look in her eyes…she must have been as nervous as I was. Maybe even scared. But…tonight was nice._

He was surprised Devi had it in her to behave as if their first date had never happened. Well, she wasn't _that_ relaxed, but she wasn't nearly as tense as Johnny expected her to be. He was by no means questioning the strength of her character, but he had tried to kill her for crissakes. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had hated him for the rest of her life.

_But she doesn't hate me. At least, I'm not so _sure_ she does anymore._

Reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, which was being tickled by some of the longer strands of his hair—he really needed to cut it—he looked over toward his right, his eyes landing on the black void of the door leading down to the basements. It stood there silently, gaping wide like the maw of some monstrous creature. The rusty hinges, which hadn't held a door since before Johnny could remember, stuck out at odd angles like brown, rotting teeth.

_I haven't been down there in a while_, he thought absently. _I wonder if there's anyone still alive…?_ No one he currently had trapped down there had been in good shape the last time he left them, even considering what "good shape" signified once he caught you. He didn't have the sheer numbers of people imprisoned like he had before he died, but for those he took down there, life was no less tortuous.

"May as well check on them," he muttered to himself. "Maybe dole out a few lessons if they're not behaving."

His pupils dilated as he descended into the nearly lightless stairwell. His toes protested with each step down, jolting him every time he put his weight on his right foot, but he gritted his teeth and bore it.

When he got to the bottom, he cast about in the air, looking for the chain that would turn the light on. When he found and pulled on it, though, the light flashed briefly and then went out with a _ping_.

"Shit," Johnny swore. The light was out. He'd have to replace it if he wanted to see anything.

There were some lightbulbs in a drawer of the workbench that stood up against the opposite wall. Feeling his way over to it, stepping carefully, he reached forward to prevent himself from running into the edge of the bench…

_WHAM_

Johnny swore loudly, finding himself flat on the rough floor, his whole body aching from the fall. His foot—thankfully his uninjured one—had caught on something he hadn't expected to be there, sending him to the floor in an undignified heap.

Hauling himself up, muttering an eloquent string of curse words, he managed to find a working lightbulb in one of the workbench's drawers and replace the dead one that was hanging from the ceiling. When the light first came on, he was momentarily blinded, as his eyes were adjusted to the near total darkness. Once he was able to blink his vision back into focus, he looked over toward the workbench to see what he had tripped on.

A corpse lay there, sprawled out and decomposed to the point where few would recognize who it was. It was tall and thin, its chest cavity splayed open by two rows of vicious-looking metal hooks. A sledgehammer lay across it, its heavy iron head resting in the remains of a shattered ribcage. The tattered clothes that clung to the rotted frame were eerily reminiscent of Johnny's own wardrobe.

_Jimmy_, he thought with a wave of disgust. It was that obsessive teenage stalker he had discovered himself to have not long after returning from the Abyss. Jimmy had been crudely emulating Johnny's methods, but added his own vindictive twists to them, even opting to rape a girl just because she had looked like someone who had once teased him. Just the thought of it was enough to make Johnny shiver in revulsion. He would _never_ rape someone. Not only did he find the idea of physical contact repelling, but he considered sexual violation to be one of the worst crimes humans could ever inflict upon each other. He himself had been brutally victimized by repeated beatings and verbal assaults for such petty things as his odd appearance, which was more than enough to warp his mind for life. He couldn't even begin to imagine the depravity it would take to force oneself upon the body of another.

Johnny clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to kick the long-dead body. It had lain here since before he had gone on his "holiday", and he had probably looked at it every time he had come down the stairs. He had seen it so many times, though, that he had _stopped_ seeing it. It had melted into the background of the filthy, bloodstained little room.

_I'm just like you._

The self-named Mmy's last words echoed in Johnny's mind, and he clenched his teeth. He couldn't stop himself from seeing that young, blemished face twist in agony as his body was ripped open, organs that should never have seen the light of day exposed to the cold air. Johnny had made good on his threat and "fucked him with steel", though instead of a sexual violation, he had penetrated and desecrated his body cavity with the cruel hooks, making his death quick but excruciatingly painful.

"Just like me…!" he snarled, feeling his fingernails cut into his palms. "_Just like me!_ You fucking shit! You goddamn stupid _bastard_!" He had seen too much of himself in this lanky kid who showed up one night on his doorstep. Jimmy had done things that not even Johnny would dare to do, but it was like staring at a taller, younger version of himself. The sheer horror he had felt had almost made him vomit, and Jimmy had been dumb enough not to escape when given the chance. Johnny had told him _three times_ to leave, far more than he gave most of his victims. Most of them didn't get any warnings at all. Perhaps his unusually charitable behavior toward the teen had been born of a desire to get _away_ from this near-doppelgänger at any cost. Killing him would require Johnny to get close to him, and it wasn't until Jimmy had practically followed him down the stairs that Johnny's patience had snapped. Despite the intense loathing and he had felt for this boy and his overwhelming aversion to touching him, he had torn into him with a ferocity that was rare even for Johnny, and even now the memory of their bizarre encounter made him feel ill.

_I'm not staying down here_, he thought, turning on his heel and almost running up the stairs. He hadn't the mind to turn the light off as he went, and the washed-out glow followed him up the stairs for a short distance.

He was breathing hard by the time he reached the living room, not out of exhaustion, but from the anger and disgust that had boiled up in his chest upon seeing Jimmy's cadaver.

_Fuck, why'd I have to trip over that little prick?!_ he mentally raged. _Why now?! Why tonight?!_

Looking toward the poorly boarded-up front window, he saw the stars sparkling in the night sky, beautiful and serene as always.

_Go out and watch the stars like you were going to_, he all but ordered himself, setting his jaw and reaching for his boots. _Don't let that dead asshole ruin tonight for you! Salvage the mood!_

Tonight had been an unusually good evening for Johnny, and he had just come within a hair's breadth of having it dashed to pieces. If anything could lift his mood, the stars could.

He lay up on the roof for the rest of the night, watching the stars wheel overhead until dawn broke the next morning.

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Okay. Deep breath. I finally got this done. I worked on it all day, 'cause I didn't want to keep you guys waiting any longer. This chapter is drastically different than how I originally envisioned it, as it has slowly evolved throughout the five months since the last update. I guess the long wait was somewhat of a good thing, because I think it turned out better than if I had gone with my first idea for it.

Perhaps I made the date between Nny and Devi go a bit too smoothly, but…I'm not worried about it. Both of them were trying to ignore the past as much as possible and move forward. I think it's entirely possible that a second date between them would go like this. If you disagree, I'm sorry. It's my story, not yours. Nyah.

I decided at the last minute to include Jimmy. His corpse, rather. I have actually wanted to include a scene where Nny rediscovers Mmy in his basement for a long time, but never found a good place to put it. As I was preparing to write the last scene in this chapter, I remembered my idea for Jimmy, and it sounded like a good idea to put him here. I hope it doesn't seem like too random an ending to the chapter. Besides, it keeps true to form in that Nny never seems to have a truly good day. No matter how much he's enjoying the moment, something always comes along and fucks it up for him. At least he's able (possibly) to salvage his good mood this time. You decide if he does or doesn't.

Anyway, I take my leave. God willing, it'll be a bit sooner than five months that I'll see you guys again. Leave a review if you're so inclined, and pray that I'll be a bit more punctual with chapter seventeen. I know _I'll_ be praying for it.


	17. A Fresh Palette

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Well, what do you know? It's only been about two months since the last chapter, as opposed to, say, five. Whoo.

Many thanks to DoubtingSalmon, PhantomVarg, sunglassesANDunicorns, Artemis-M, Miss Tagi, Lynn Johnson, Gepetto, The Only Person Who Luvz Akito, Desdemona Kakalose, CrushonDib, Kosuki, and JenovaPooh for reading and reviewing chapter sixteen! I'd also like to recognize JenovaPooh for leaving the 200th review on this story. I _never_ thought I'd reach this milestone, but I'm very happy I did. Thanks, guys!

**My Immortal  
**By Annie-chan  
**Chapter Seventeen: A Fresh Palette**

Johnny sighed briefly through his nose, looking at his fragmented reflection in his mirror. It had been many months since Devi had smashed his head into the glass, sending a spider web of cracks over the entire surface. The mirror had been broken to begin with—from what he did not know—but Devi's swift introduction of his face to the hard glass had completely shattered it. It was a wonder it still stood in its frame. Some pieces had fallen out, but he was surprised the whole thing hadn't come tumbling down.

In his right hand he held a pair of scissors. One of the blades was bent slightly, so the two halves didn't slide against each other as well as they should. They were useless for making a straight cut. The reason Johnny was holding them, however, didn't require precision to any degree. As long as they cut, period, they were good enough.

He had let his hair go the past few months. With everything that had been happening, he had completely forgotten to maintain the short, simple cut he usually preferred. The hair on the top of his head was almost chin length, flopping down into his eyes and tickling his ears whenever he moved his head. The undercut had completely grown out, the sides and back that he usually kept closely shaved now covered with a mess of black spikes. He was starting to look rather wild, and it was getting irritating to always be brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was high time he addressed this problem.

Pulling some longer strands out straight, he brought the scissors up and snipped them off about an inch and a half from his scalp.

_It would probably be easier to do this in the bathroom_, he thought as he continued trimming away. _The mirror in there isn't broken. Then again, it's not exactly clean, either._

The mirror above his bathroom sink was free of cracks, but a dark smear of blood covered a good portion of the surface, making it impossible to see anything in it. The thick red liquid had dried and crusted over, so it would take a good amount of scrubbing to clean the mirror enough to be used. Even though it was broken completely, the bedroom mirror was, at the moment, easier to use.

Johnny's bathroom had been the scene of a quick yet very bloody death a few days prior. He had dragged his struggling victim in there by the hair, snarling something about how he'd show her just how pretty she could be. He had once again heard a group of girls snickering about how "funny" he looked, and his sharp ears had picked up some particularly jabbing comments about how "his kind" existed to make everyone else look attractive. His temper had nearly exploded at the shameless abuse, and later that night he had had cornered the apparent leader of the clique and taken her back home with him for some "educating".

He had shoved her up against the sink, nearly smacking her face against the mirror, screaming at her to take in how "beautiful" she looked, her makeup running and her face red and sweaty with fear. A knife had flashed, slicing off her nose and ears before gouging across her eyes, instantly blinding her. Digging his fingers into her mouth, he managed to get a hold of her tongue and stretch it out as far past her teeth as he could. His other hand curled into a fist and smashed up hard against her chin, making her bite most of the way through her own tongue. He ripped it the rest of the way out of her mouth, then twisted his bloody fingers into her hair, yanked her head back, and slit her throat with the wickedly sharp knife. Terror and pain had made her blood pressure skyrocket, and a dark red fountain fairly spurted from her carotids, splashing thickly across the mirror. It had only taken a few seconds for her body to relax, the sudden, catastrophic drop of blood pressure shocking her brain into shutting down almost immediately.

Her lifeless body was then thrown recklessly into the bathtub, where Johnny had quickly dismembered her, working out the rest of his hatred and rage. The girl's decimated body still lay haphazardly in the tub, crusted over with dried blood and other body fluids.

"I should clean the bathroom today," he muttered to himself, turning his head to the left and then to the right, checking to make sure he had cut all the longer bits off. "The smell is starting to get into the rest of the house." Though he had kept the bathroom door closed since the massacre a few days ago, the scent of rot was seeping into the hallway outside, and would soon permeate the entire house if he didn't take care of it soon.

He set the scissors down on the dresser when he had decided he had gotten his hair short enough, reaching instead for a small set of electric clippers that was plugged into the outlet near the floor, charging up for use. He hadn't used the clippers in months, the battery having lost all of its power through total disuse.

Tilting his head to the side, he started shearing off the carpet of short spikes that had grown in while his attention was directed elsewhere.

In truth, his brutality in dispatching the girl surprised him somewhat. Though it had been quick, she had shed a massive amount of blood before dying. He hadn't killed in such a messy manner for a while now, though he hadn't really realized that until he had calmed down and surveyed the results of his work bleeding out in the bathtub.

His methods were gradually changing. He still killed, but it was different than before. He wasn't dragging so many people home to imprison in his basement for torture. The mass murders and spree killings had dropped dramatically in frequency, and were usually more self-contained. A higher percentage of his victims were murdered on the spot, rather than taken away for a slow, agonizing death. He was focusing more on destroying them quickly, striking hard and then withdrawing rather than hovering around and keeping them alive longer just to inflict more pain. Most importantly, he figured, the raw numbers of how many people he was killing were lower. There were fewer deaths than there used to be, plain and simple.

He had always loathed what he did. Though driven inexorably to it by his unenviable circumstances, he had always hated killing. He screamed, yelled, and ranted endlessly to his victims how their preying upon their own kind was despicable, yet he himself was the most prolific predator of them all. He rationalized it by telling himself he was "educating" the ignorant masses, as well as weeding out the monsters masquerading as normal humans, yet he'd always known in the back of his mind just how repulsed he was by his own actions. And yet, deep down, there was one part of him that enjoyed it. A dark, twisted portion of his soul delighted in the pain, the misery, the blood and death. He had lost control to that part of himself more times than he wanted to acknowledge, and some of his bloodiest, most drawn-out rampages were perpetrated while that part was in command.

But that part of himself was fast receding, fading back into the depths of his unreachable subconscious. He knew it would always be there, but it seemed to have lost the bulk of its power.

He was positive it had to do with the ending of his status as a waste-lock. He had been the focal point of an immeasurable mass of negative thoughts and emotions for an indeterminable length of time. Not only had it cleaved his mind into multiple entities, but it seems the cracks in his being had allowed deeply-buried facets of his personality to surface and magnify. The uglier, wilder parts of his very human soul had come to the fore, taking control and drawing out the most inhuman of behaviors. But now, his tenure as waste-lock over and his mind seemingly mended into a single, unbroken consciousness, the savage, bloodthirsty parts of himself were retreating, again relegated to the deepest, most locked away recesses of his being.

_Maybe I _did _start killing only after becoming a flusher_, he thought. _Maybe that _was _what made me hate humanity enough to kill._ But if that were the case, what did the future hold for him? His killing habits had already changed considerably. Would he eventually stop killing completely? Would the hate and anger in his heart lessen to the point where he no longer felt the need to kill to appease it? He couldn't imagine himself with a positive—or even neutral—outlook on the world, but maybe, just maybe, he would someday find some other outlet for his frustration and disgust with humanity.

"Only time will tell," he said aloud, setting the clippers down and inspecting his work. His hair was back to its normal length and style, the sides and back shaved off with a choppy, spiky cap sitting precariously on top. It was somewhat unusual, but it suited him.

Or rather, it suited his lifestyle. Though he remembered clearly few of the reasons and motives behind his actions, he knew that his haircut had been chosen for a specific reason. He hadn't wanted to shave it off entirely, as the bald look had never appealed to him, but he wanted to find some way short of wearing a shower cap to keep blood from matting into it. So, he had simply removed the hair from the parts of his head most likely to get splashed. The result was a half-shaved scalp with a roughly circular crown of hair left on top. Over the years, he had come to keep it cut that way simply out of habit.

Ruffling his hair to knock away any loose strands still sticking around, he turned to exit the room. He may as well get on that bathroom now. It wasn't going to clean itself, after all.

Two hours later found him sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning back against the under-sink cabinet. He was hot, sweaty, tired, and nearly sick with the lingering scent of rotten meat, but at least the place was clean. The stench of decay had almost bowled him over upon opening the door, and he had more than once had to stop and move to more ventilated areas to keep from vomiting.

The body parts were now buried in his backyard, and he had scrubbed madly at just about every surface in the room. He had attacked the sink, the mirror, the counter, the floor, the bathtub, the walls, even the toilet, which had somehow gotten splattered when he had slit the girl's throat. He did this every time he killed someone in this room. Other rooms in his house bore the occasional signs of carnage, such as the large bloodstain on his living room floor where he had bled to death several months prior. The basements were a veritable charnel house, red and brown stains covering the walls, the floors, even the ceilings. None of that particularly bothered him. The bathroom, however, he felt the need to sterilize whenever blood was spilled within its walls. This was where he kept _himself_ clean. This was where he washed off the sticky blood and bits of gore he often found himself covered in. Taking a shower or bath of course meant disrobing completely, and the idea of being naked and vulnerable in a room crusted over with the evidence of multiple butcherings made him shudder with revulsion.

Pushing himself to his feet, he dropped the sponge currently clutched in his hand into the sink, where it joined four others. They were all red to some degree or another, as he had yet to rinse them out. Whatever soap still clung to them was as red as the blood they were soaked with. He really had left himself with a monster of a mess to clean up.

Tilting his head, he looked pensively at the sponges that lay in the small sink. A sudden thought had occurred to him, something he hadn't thought of in a very long time. For a moment, he was looking down at a pile of his painting sponges, their porous surfaces glistening with bright colors, waiting to be picked up again and used. He had a fleeting vision of the red changing to orange, blue, purple, yellow, and green, the vivid pigments just begging to be applied to canvas.

He shook his head, dispelling the illusion. Once again, the only color that stared back at him was a ruddy, brownish red. Looking up, he saw reflected in the mirror a painting that hung on the wall outside the door, bold colors and daring shapes dancing across the canvas in an ecstatic riot.

_I haven't painted in so long_, he thought with a sudden stab of sadness. _I can't even remember making any of the pictures in this house. It's like some fading, far-off dream that I could ever call myself an artist._

Heaving a deep sigh, he let his head hang forward, his thoughts stewing. He had once told himself that he didn't want his artistic side to come back, as a return of his talent would mean a return of emotions. Now, however, he had utterly abandoned his quest for numbness, and the longing for his lost passion in art had come back full force. There was no sign of his talent coming back, just as his memories still refused to break through the block on them. The realization of this was enough to send him to the verge of a depression. Very little would be necessary to push him over the edge.

"Maybe I just…need to find the right subject," he said softly, only half aware of what he was saying. As soon as the words left his mouth, however, it was like something clicked in his head. A sudden idea sprang up, and he looked back up at his reflection. It seemed silly, ludicrous even, but the thought that seized him was screaming louder by the second, demanding his attention.

Taking a nervous breath, he looked back down at the sink. First, he needed to clean these sponges out, then he needed a shower. After that, he was going to a place he hadn't been to since before he could remember.

He was going to the art supply store.

* * *

"Thank you! Please come again!"

The sales clerk smiled amicably as the customer left the store, the bell above the door tinkling cheerfully as he exited.

"Jeez, Sherry, have you ever seen that guy before?" her coworker asked once the man was out of earshot.

"No," Sherry replied, her smile fading into a look of bemusement as she stared at the exit door. "I think I would remember seeing someone like him."

"You're telling me," the other woman said. "He looked like a starved scarecrow."

"Maybe…maybe he's sick?" Sherry wondered aloud. She didn't think the man was that thin for lack of food. He had purchased a full set of paints and brushes, as well as a couple canvases, so he had to be able to afford to feed himself, right? Unless he was one of those weirdo artists who'd rather spend their money on their craft than on taking care of themselves.

"Hard telling," her coworker said. "The chemo patients _I've_ seen look better than _that_, though. You'd think he hadn't eaten in weeks."

"Yeah…"

The bell over the door jingled again as a group of art students from the local college entered. They were regulars at the shop, and were recognized by the clerks immediately.

"Hi!" Sherry grinned, forgetting all about the alarmingly thin stranger. "What can I get you today?"

* * *

"I'm glad you could come in early today, Devi. I'm sorry for asking you to move your appointment up at such short notice."

"Oh, no problem," Devi replied to Ms. Sununu as she gathered up her portfolio from the desk. "I wasn't doing anything today that couldn't wait for the afternoon."

The graphic arts director smiled, opening her office door for the younger woman. "You're making great progress on your current project. Keep up the good work, and we'll be able to get the book ready for publishing in no time."

"Thank you, ma'am. I have been on quite a roll lately, so it shouldn't be too long before I'm finished if things keep going like they have been."

"If there are any problems, make sure to call, so we can stay on the same page," Ms. Sununu reminded as Devi retrieved her coat from a hook on the wall.

"Don't worry, I will," Devi assured her. Tucking her portfolio under her arm, she said her farewells and exited the office.

_That went really well_, she thought, smiling to herself. She had just been in a meeting with the head of the graphic arts department at Doppelganger Press. Ms. Sununu liked to have regular meetings with the artists to see their progress and make sure everyone on the same project is working toward the same goal. It was directly the opposite of when Devi had been working for Nerve Publishing, as then she had been called into the office only sporadically, and usually when those in charge just wanted her to make some kind of unexplainable change to what she had already busted her ass to put out. The move involved environment of Doppelganger was much more to Devi's liking, even despite her introverted personality.

"So, how'd it go?" Tenna asked as she walked into a waiting area a little ways down the hallway. The other woman had come with her, and had spent the duration of Devi's meeting perusing old magazines and newspapers.

"Pretty good," Devi replied with a quick smile. "She wants me to just keep going in the same direction with this one. It shouldn't be long before I'm finished and I can tackle something new."

"Great!" Tenna squealed, punctuated by a squeak from the ever-present Spooky. Devi sometimes forgot about the little skeleton doll, but it was never long before Tenna reminded her of the squeeze-toy's presence in some way or another.

"You weren't waiting too long, were you?" Devi asked as they exited the building a few minutes later.

"Nah," Tenna shrugged. "Those old magazines gave me a good laugh. It's amazing how the world gets all bent out of shape about one thing or anther, and then once the next big scandal comes along, everyone forgets about the old one, no matter how horrible they made it out to be."

"It's typical," Devi nodded, fishing her keys out of her pocket as they approached her car. "Hysterical reporters drum up attention for whatever 'problem' will get them the most readers, and then pandering politicians follow their lead and throw their own bullshit in so the ignorant masses will think they're working to protect our way of life rather than sitting on their asses and frittering away our tax dollars. Once one story has run its course, they all go looking for the next big 'crisis' to throw in our faces. Sometimes I don't know whether to get angry over it or laugh at the utter stupidity of it all."

"Makes you wanna give anarchy a try, huh?"

"Maybe. There're too many people who equate 'anarchy' with 'chaos' and 'lawlessness' for that to ever happen, though."

"Mm…true," Tenna agreed as they got in the car.

"If you want a really good laugh, go online and visit some blog sites," Devi suggested as she started the engine. "News and politics ones are the best. Sometimes I wonder just how some of these people manage to avoid being branded as raving lunatics. It's insane, some of the things they put out there."

Tenna giggled. She knew Devi to have rather strong opinions about some things, but she also knew how extremism of any kind both bothered and greatly amused her friend. She recalled one time when some street preacher railing against the many sins and perversions of society had been quickly introduced to the sole of Devi's boot when he had loudly suggested that the gothy clothing and makeup she had been wearing that day indicated she was some godless occultist. Several people had cheered as she stood over the man, silently daring him to say anything further. Apparently, she hadn't been the only person around who wanted him to shut up.

"Oh, speaking of news," she said after a moment of silence, "I saw a thing about the investigation into Derek's death a few days ago. The police still haven't found any leads. It sounds as if they're getting pretty impatient with the lack of evidence."

"That's not surprising," Devi half muttered. Her ex-boyfriend's desiccated remains had been found nearly twenty-four hours after his death, and the scene had been as sparse on clues to the killer's identity as any of Johnny's killings had been. Rumors had been flying around almost from the start about how this looked like yet another murder from the mysterious predator that has apparently returned to the city. Devi found it oddly amusing that nobody had any idea just how right they were.

"I hope you don't mind me bringing that up." Tenna realized belatedly that Devi may not want to be reminded of what was quickly becoming known as "the warehouse incident".

"Don't worry about it, Tenna," Devi said, waving her concern away.

"How are you and Johnny doing, by the way?"

"So far, so good. I don't think either one of us is completely comfortable in the relationship yet. I don't know about him, but I don't think I'll really be at ease with it for a while yet. My trust in him hasn't recovered all the way yet, but…it's getting better. We're progressing. We're progressing very slowly, but we're still progressing."

Tenna smiled brightly. "I'm happy to hear that, Devi! I'm so excited for you!"

Devi felt a smile of her own tug at her lips. "Thanks, Ten."

They drove the rest of the way home in silence. Upon arriving, Tenna bid Devi a hasty goodbye and rushed up the stairs to her apartment on the second floor. Her favorite TV show was about to come on, and she didn't want to miss it.

Devi watched her friend go as she locked her car, then ascended the steps in a much calmer fashion to her own apartment up on the third floor.

_What should I do?_ she asked herself as she reached her door. _Do I want to watch one of those movies I rented yesterday, or should I get some work done first?_

Upon entering the apartment, the sound of a phone ringing reached her ears. For the first time in a long time, the sound of it didn't make her wince. She had finally bought a new phone, one with a ringer that didn't grate on her eardrums like her previous one did. Tossing her backpack and portfolio on the couch, she crossed the room and lifted the receiver to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Devi," a familiar voice answered.

"Hey there, Nny. What's up?"

"Um…well…" His voice sounded hesitant. "I know what you've already said about this, but…do you think you could come over? There's something I really want to show you."

Devi felt a grimace stretch her lips, but quickly shook it off before replying. "You know I don't want to see that place again, Nny. I just haven't gotten over it enough to go back there. Can't you just bring whatever you want to show me over here?"

"I know. I guess I could. I just…I just don't want to ruin it. It hasn't sat for long enough, and I'm afraid if I take it anywhere, something will happen to it. But I don't want to wait to show it to you, either. I really, really want you to see it." He paused briefly. "Please, Devi…?"

Devi sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She had been quite adamant about not going back to the rundown little shack Johnny called a home. She was afraid that just seeing it would bring back the fear and loathing that she had only just recently put aside. The pleading tone in Johnny's voice was almost sad, however. He sounded like a child hoping for a chance to make a neglectful parent proud of him.

_They say the best way to conquer your fears is to face them head-on._ "All right. I'll come over, I guess. If even one bad thing happens, though, Nny, I'll knock your ass clear into next week."

"Nothing will happen, Devi! I swear!"

"For your sake, you'd better be telling the truth."

* * *

Devi sat in the car for several minutes after parking it, staring at her hands on the steering wheel. If she looked to her right, she'd be able to see Johnny's house, the barren front yard sprawling rather uninvitingly before it. To the left of the walkway leading to the front door, a sign was stuck in the dirt. It read "KEEP OFF! It's impolite to walk on the dead."

_Does he really have dead people buried under there, or is that just his sick sense of humor?_ She didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer to that question. Something told her very loudly that she wouldn't like it.

Sighing deeply, she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out, swinging the door shut behind her. Taking a second to lock the door, she then surveyed her surroundings. There was nobody around. The sun was high in the sky, so she was a little surprised that she couldn't see anyone. She'd thought that there would at least be some young children out playing, or something.

Then again, perhaps Johnny's very presence was enough to mute the activity on this street. The little house he lived in exuded a definite aura of foreboding. It was enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

Taking another deep breath, she squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and started toward the front door. She tried to keep from glancing nervously at the bare soil on either side of her. It didn't help that there were quite possibly human bodies buried there. She mostly succeeded, but not entirely.

When she knocked on the door, it sounded strangely hollow, as if it were a large, empty room on the other side. She had been in his house before, of course, and knew that wasn't the case. Perhaps it was all the bare wood and sparse furnishings that gave it that effect.

A moment later, the door opened.

"Hey, Devi," Johnny said, a hint of a nervous smile on his face. His hair was cut short again, she noticed. He opened the door wider and stepped back, silently asking her in.

"I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to," she said, stepping cautiously inside. "I don't want to be rude, but…y'know…"

"Yeah, I know," he nodded, closing the door quietly. "I really appreciate you coming here, though, Devi. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd told me to go fuck myself."

"What is it you want to show me?" Devi asked, getting straight to the point. Her fearful side was begging her to get out of there as quickly as possible.

_Wait a minute. What's that I smell? Is that…paint? But—_

"It's over there," he said, pointing over toward a back corner of the room. "It's still a little wet, I think."

Devi looked over to where he was pointing, her eyes widening when she saw the familiar shape of an easel. It was old and rickety, but the canvas looked new, and the drop cloth on the floor underneath bore several drops and splatters of paint, their bright color indicating that they were fairly fresh.

Holding her breath, she made her way over to the easel. It was turned away from her, so she had to circle around it to see what it contained. When she did, she let out the breath she was holding, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

It was a painting of her. She was standing at the end of a long bookshelf, holding a stack of books in her arms. Her hair was short and black, and she was wearing the blue employee apron she had always worn while working at Dragon's Books.

"That's the first time I saw you," Johnny said from behind her, his voice startling her. "That image has always stuck in my mind. I thought, if I'm going to paint something, I may as well paint that."

Devi turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Johnny, did you _just_ paint this?"

"Yeah," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck, as if nervous. "I worked on it all night and all this morning. Almost a whole day, actually. I kept having to stop and come back to it. There were times when I felt I just couldn't do anything with it, like my mind was blanking out on how to continue. I just kept trying, though, and…well…I finished it just before I called you."

She turned back to the painting, her eyes taking in every detail. "Oh, Nny…I'm so happy for you," she breathed. After years of complete artist's block, Johnny had finally taken brush to canvas again. She knew that the frustration and bitterness she had felt from Sickness siphoning her creativity away could only be a taste of what Johnny must have been going through. The completion of this painting must have been a massive relief for the rail-thin young man, a lifting of the heavy weight of oppression off of his narrow shoulders.

"Do…do you like it?" he asked, the nervousness in his voice growing more prominent. "I mean…it's not very good—"

"Nny, it's fantastic!" she interrupted. "This is incredible work for someone who hasn't painted in so long! I'd never guess you've had such a dry spell!"

"You're just saying that," he said. An odd smile was tugging at his lips, as if he couldn't figure out what she was seeing that was so good.

"No, Nny, I'm being completely serious," she replied, her voice calmer. "I can see where you're out of practice, but really, you did a terrific job. You just need to find your groove again, and you'll be doing wonderfully. Your potential is enormous, I can tell."

Johnny listened in silence, then dipped his head down, as if meeting her gaze made him shy. "You don't know how happy that makes me to hear you say that," he said softly, almost too quiet to hear.

Devi giggled. "You don't know how happy I am that you painted such a flattering picture of me. You left out every one of my flaws. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to hit on me."

"I didn't leave out any 'flaws', Devi," he said, looking back up at her. "You really are beautiful, you know."

She laughed again, joy suddenly bubbling up within her. Before she knew what was happening, she did something she had never before expected herself to do.

She hugged him.

Johnny stiffened reflexively, the part of him that disliked physical contact sending out a mental screech of alarm. After a brief urge to shove her away, he slowly relaxed, feeling the tension drain out of each muscle group. His heart, which had begun to beat wildly when he first felt her embrace, gradually slowed back down to normal.

He had always hated touching other people, but this wasn't so bad.

Hesitantly, he brought his arms up and returned the hug. Oh, yeah…he could definitely get used to this.

"I'm glad you like it, Devi."

**To be continued…**

**Author's Notes:** Ja-jaaaan! I'm so happy to finally have this chapter written. I've had the last scene in my head almost since I started writing this story, and it is _so_ satisfying to finally get it all down. It isn't _quite_ the same as when it first came to me, but it's pretty rare that a story idea of mine doesn't evolve to some extent or other between conception and realization. All in all, I think it came out pretty well.

I should probably tell you guys that this is the last full chapter of the story. There will be an epilogue to wrap everything up, so I'm not done quite yet. Hopefully I'll have that up before long, so keep your fingers crossed.

I can't believe it's taken me almost two years to write this story. That's way longer than anything else I've written, though I have to admit that it's partly due to there being long periods of nothing. I'm really happy that so many people have stuck by me this whole time, though. The sheer amount of positive feedback has far surpassed the support I've received for any of my other writings, and I hardly expected this story to amass such a favorable response from you guys. Words cannot describe how much I appreciate it, everyone.

Anyway, I'm talking as if it's already over! Silly me. Leave a review, if it strikes your fancy, and I'll be back as soon as I'm able. With the busy holiday season coming up—and the fact that I work in a large retail store (Target)—it'll probably be longer than I'd like, but hopefully a lot sooner than these last few chapters have been. I know I've said that before, though, so take my words with a grain of salt. If I get my way, I'll have it finished by Christmas, but let's not go counting our chickens just yet. I'll finish it when I finish it.

See y'all later!


	18. Epilogue

**Author's Notes:** See chapter one for disclaimer.

Once again, I've left you guys waiting. Between the last chapter and Christmas, I had a legitimate reason. Work and holiday preparation completely took over my life, leaving no time to write anything. Between Christmas and now, though, I don't have quite such a legitimate reason. I will say that the video games I got for Christmas have been eating up my free time like you wouldn't believe, namely _Final Fantasy_ (the original one), _Chain of Memories_ (the PS2 remake), and _Guitar Hero III_. So blame them. That and a sudden explosion of interest in The Smashing Pumpkins. Billy Corgan has joined my pantheon of personal heroes (for various reasons). Oh, and he's Irish and a Pisces, just like me. Hee.

Anyway, enough of that. Many thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, The Only Person Who Luvz Akito, DoubtingSalmon, tasty cheez, Kosuki, fish finger, CrushonDib, Desdemona Kakalose, and Jthm-Killer for reading and reviewing chapter seventeen! I'm glad to hear you guys are both happy and sad that it's finally ending. I feel the same way.

**My Immortal**  
By Annie-chan**  
Epilogue**

Devi brought a hand to her mouth as a sudden yawn overtook her. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she could feel reflexive tears wetting her eyelashes. She flicked them away as soon as the yawn had subsided, not wanting her mascara to run.

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise when she glanced at the clock. She was sitting on her bed with her back against the headboard, her sketchbook in her lap and several torn-out pages littering the bedspread around her. Looking at the time, she realized she had been sitting there for much longer than she thought.

Setting the sketchbook aside, she sat up straight and stretched, reaching up over her head and arching backward, hearing her spine pop as it realigned itself.

"Jeezus, I've been sitting here longer than I thought," she muttered to herself as she stood up, stretching her legs. Her back and shoulders were a little sore, protesting as she moved from the hunched position she had been in for so long. Moving her head around in a circle, loosening her neck up—which also popped—she covered another small yawn with her hand as she exited her bedroom. "Nny, are you still here?"

She received no verbal answer, but soon got one anyway as she came into the living room. Johnny's gangly body was stretched out along the length of the couch, his right leg and arm dangling off the edge toward the floor. His other arm was bent up around his head, and his left leg was propped up on a throw pillow lying on the other end of the couch.

He was asleep.

Devi stifled a giggle as she took in the sight before her. Curled up on Johnny's chest was a small black and white rabbit, also asleep. Every so often its whiskers or ears would twitch, as if it were dreaming.

Ben—short for Benjamin Bunny, a character from a series of children's books Devi had loved as a child—had been a birthday present from Johnny a few months back. He had said something about not taking care of a pet rabbit he had once had himself, and he had wanted to make up for it by giving a rabbit nobody else wanted to someone who could provide it with a good home. He had gone to a local pet shop and purchased a feeder rabbit condemned to become a meal for one of the shop's snakes. It was a feeder rabbit because no one had bought it as a pet, so it had been moved to the feeder cages to make room for new arrivals.

Devi had been delighted by the gift, and had quickly become attached to the small rabbit. She let him have the run of the apartment, except at night when she closed him into the small hutch she had procured for him. Having an animal companion was a nice change to living completely by herself, and even though she wasn't as reclusive as she once had been, she still couldn't call herself a social person. Her job was mostly a one-woman thing as well, and it was nice to have a pet around to share her working hours with.

As for Johnny himself, Devi took his momentary stillness as an opportunity to look him over thoroughly. He was the same as he always was, yet there were some significant changes to him. He was still on the extraordinarily thin side, but he wasn't so alarmingly emaciated anymore. His bones weren't so sharply defined, and Devi didn't have quite the urge to force-feed him when she looked at him. He still didn't eat enough for a person of his size, but at least he was doing so more often than he used to. That coupled with the fact that he was sleeping semi-regularly now—as evidenced by his current nap on Devi's couch—had given his skin a healthier tone than before. Though he still looked somewhat anemic, he wasn't so sallow or sickly-looking anymore. He still habitually wore the gothic makeup around his eyes, but the dark circles underneath weren't so prominent, so his face didn't look so much like a skull.

He was far from a picture of health, but at least he didn't look like the walking dead anymore.

Perhaps the most striking change, though this had nothing to do with health or personal upkeep, was the shockingly bright blue his hair now was. Devi had been unable to settle on a color for herself the last time she went out looking for hair dye, so she had instead bought something for Johnny, pretty much on a whim. He had seemed a bit perplexed when she had given him the dye kit, but had nevertheless obliged her. Now his mess of black spikes was bluer than the neon signs downtown. Dark roots were beginning to show through, and she wondered if he would continue to dye it or let it grow out.

Devi had let her own hair grow out a little, then had cut off the dyed parts. It was short and black again, much like it had been while she had worked at Dragon's Books.

She looked down at her stomach when she heard it growl impatiently. With a slight grimace, she realized how hungry she was. She had been so caught up in sketching and drawing that she had completely ignored any hunger pangs she may have felt, and now her stomach was loudly chastising her for not paying attention to it.

"Okay, okay," she said as it growled again, "I'll feed you." Leaving Johnny and Ben to their nap, she headed toward the kitchen, mentally going over the contents of her cupboards, trying to figure out what sounded good at the moment.

"Cabrillo."

Devi stopped in the doorway, startled. Johnny had just spoken, though he had been asleep only a second ago when Devi had last looked at him. Turning around, she found him in the same position as before, only his dark brown eyes were now open, staring at the ceiling.

"What did you say?" she asked, confused. She thought he had said a name, though it wasn't anyone she knew, and she didn't think he knew anyone by that name, either.

Johnny pushed himself up into a sitting position slowly, Ben sliding down into his lap as he did so. The rabbit shook himself awake, then jumped down and hopped away, upset his nap had been disturbed. Both Johnny and Devi ignore him.

"Nny?" Devi prodded, a bit unnerved by the unreadable expression on Johnny's face.

"Cabrillo," Johnny said again, the light of dawning comprehension coming into his eyes. "That's…that's my name." He paused, then spoke again, as if in dream. "John…Joseph…Cabrillo. John Joseph Cabrillo." He looked up at Devi, his eyes wide with equal parts excitement, confusion, and unease.

"You remember your name?!" Devi exclaimed, her mouth unsure if it wanted to gape in astonishment or grin in happiness. She fairly leaped over to the couch, her hungry stomach all but forgotten, and plopped down onto the cushion next to him. "Nny, that's _fantastic_! Do you remember anything else?! Anything at all?!" She was beside herself with excitement. After months of stony resistance, the first crack had finally appeared in the block on Johnny's memories. Remembering his name wasn't much, but it was a lot more than the absolute nothingness of before.

"No," he replied, dropping his head into his hands, as if he had a headache. "Not really. Nothing more than the flashes I've always remembered." He shook his head, then looked back up at her. "I don't recall dreaming anything, but as soon as I opened my eyes, I knew what my name was. It just…came out of nowhere."

"Who cares where it came from?" Devi asked, calming herself, though she still felt giddy. "Nny, this is great! If your name came back to you, maybe you'll remember more! Much more!"

"Yes, but…this scares me, Devi," Johnny replied, a look of nervousness settling over his features. "I do want to remember, it's just that…what if I don't like what I see? What if the memories are bad? What if there are things in my past I would rather _not_ remember?"

"We all have things in our pasts that we'd rather forget," Devi said. "Believe me, I know that better than just about anyone."

"I know," he nodded. "When I think of the possibilities, though, I feel this clenching in my gut. I mean, what could possibly have happened to me to make me the way I am? Some of the things it could be…I think I'd rather have the memory block."

"You won't know that until you remember it," Devi countered, carefully keeping her voice neutral. She didn't want him to think she was bullying him into anything. "Besides, considering my experiences with Sickness, and listening to your own accounts, I think being a waste-lock had a big impact on the person you are. Maybe not all of it; I can't imagine you as a people-person or an optimist. But you could have had a perfectly non-traumatic childhood and still turned out the same way. I may be wrong, but that's what I think."

"You do have a point," Johnny agreed after a moment of thought. "I've thought of that, too. I just can't shake the anxiety that comes with the thought of my memories returning. Remembering my name now just brings this anxiety to the fore."

"I think anyone in your situation would feel the same way," she said. "Sometimes, there's nothing more intimidating than the unknown."

Johnny nodded again, looking down at his hands as they rested in his lap.

"I'll help you through it, if you need me to," she continued. "Lord knows I'm pretty experienced in dealing with sudden, unexpected trauma." She cracked a wry grin in his direction. "Although, considering your history, I think you would be, too."

"Heh…yeah." A smile tugged at the corners of Johnny's lips, and Devi thought she saw the nervousness in his eyes slip away a little.

Her stomach suddenly growled again, much louder this time.

"Jeez, Devi, was that your stomach?" Johnny asked, looking over at her. An amused grin was starting to spread across his face.

"Uh…yeah," she replied, a little embarrassed. "I'm starving, Nny, and I bet you are, too. When was the last time you ate? Yesterday?"

"I guess I am a little hungry," Johnny admitted with a shrug. "And I think it's been longer than that. I don't really remember."

"Then you're gonna eat something," Devi said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I know you often 'forget' to eat, Nny, but I'll be damned if I let you turn into that scrawny stick figure again."

"All right, all right," he huffed, a look of mock-irritation on his face. "What are you, my mother?"

"With the way you take care of yourself, you _need_ a mother," she fired back, though she was well aware his defensiveness wasn't serious. If he was going to act like a petulant child, she may as well play along.

"Touché," he said, pretending to size her up. "Well, Miss Delgado, if you're going to be _so_ insistent, I guess I have no choice but to relent to your demands."

"A wise choice," she smiled, a smug look on her face. "I'd hate to have to show you just _how_ insistent I can be."

"Believe me, I know how forceful you can be," Johnny said dryly, rubbing at his forehead as if it hurt. "My mirror does, too."

"And don't you forget it," she said, poking him sharply in the temple before standing up. "Now let's get us something to eat."

"Fine, fine," Johnny sighed, standing up as well. "What is it that we're eating, O mistress of mine?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "I'm kinda in the mood for something salty. Now that I think about it, there're some catfish filets in the freezer."

"You're not going to make me eat _that_, are you?" he asked, mild disgust in his voice. Seafood and salty weren't exactly his favorites, and catfish was both.

"Oh, come on! Catfish is good!"

"Whatever you say, Devi…"

**End**

**Author's Notes:** Well, there you have it. This story that's taken me over two years to write is finally finished.

I don't really know what to say. So many people have supported me in writing this, some sticking around the entire two-year duration. If I say nothing else, I should say thank you. Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read this, especially to those who've waited patiently for each chapter since the beginning. I appreciate all who've left reviews, but I'm also thankful to those who haven't. Just looking at the number of hits on this story makes me happy. No other story I've written has gotten such a positive response. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

I'm really proud of how this has turned out. I think it's the best fanfic I've ever written. Many of my stories look rather amateurish after a few years, but I'm hoping that never happens with this one. This is my pride and joy when it comes to fanfiction. My baby, if you will. The fact that so many enjoy this story as much as I do is a nice bonus.

I suppose some of you may be interested in knowing that I'm intending to go more into original fiction. I'll still write fanfiction, as that's my hobby, but my goal is to be a published author. I'm not expecting to be a household name, or anything, but my ideal career is that of a professional writer. The story most prominent in my mind, and thus most likely to be the first turned into a book, has been kicking around in my head for years now, and has evolved to the point where I think it's ready to be committed to paper. It's gonna take a lot of work, and likely a long time, to finish, but I'm determined to see it through. Wish me luck.

Anyway, thank you, thank you, thank you. If I could give you all hugs, I would. Love, peace, and cookies for everyone!

~Annie-chan ^_^V


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